


Long Time Gone

by Melodious329



Category: Angel: the Series RPF, Kane (Band), Leverage RPF, One Tree Hill RPF, Smallville RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 168,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is an average teenager who likes to play his guitar in the park to his audience of one, a homeless teen named Christian.  But Steve isn't satisfied just looking from a distance.</p><p>But to have a future together, they'll need to first face Christian's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress that does explore child sexual abuse.
> 
> Thanks to purpleyedemon for everything
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a fictional story. Think of it as a movie that I cast them all in. And though this has been researched, it is not intended as a case study of an abused child.

[](http://s567.photobucket.com/albums/ss114/Melodious329/?action=view&current=melodious01.jpg)

Steve pulls his old green Volvo station wagon into the parking lot of the LA park. As he unfolds himself from the seat to stand, he can’t help smiling to himself at the feel of the sun on his face. It was a great idea to start coming to the park to play, he thinks as he grabs his guitar case from the backseat. Summer is in full swing, but it isn’t too hot for the threadbare t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing.

He finds a seat underneath the shade of a tall oak tree, pushing his sunglasses up into his blonde wavy hair as he drops his notebook and pencil on the grass before sitting with his case in his lap. All of life seems to happen in this park, young lovers and old lovers, families with children and dogs, walkers and joggers and skateboarders, and him, an almost-seventeen year old heading for his senior year of high school.

So much had changed in three years, he had changed. As a freshman he had been so unsure of everything, so unsure of himself. He had always known he was gay but to tell people, to tell everyone…it didn’t matter that he was certain his parents would love him anyway, there was that seed of doubt that gnawed at him until it seemed to be all that he could think about. He had felt like everyone already knew, that it was like written on his forehead or something. Of course, it sort of was, well, not that he was gay, but certainly that he was uncomfortable, that he was hiding.

He ended up blurting it out in the middle of dinner, in between “have some more broccoli, honey” and “pass the rolls” there was “I’m gay.” His parents were stunned, of course, at the nonsequitor if not at the content of the announcement. Then his mom’s slack mouth turned up in a little smile, as if she was actually proud of him, proud that he had finally said it. His dad seemed a little uncomfortable, which hurt, no matter how typical that reaction probably was. He tried really and Steve knew that and could now appreciate the effort, but Steve’s dad was never going to take the delight that his mom seemed to when asking if Steve found such-and-such actor attractive. Actually his mom was weirdly cool about it.

Steve lost some friends, endured some teasing and name calling. At the time, it had felt like the end of the world, but with time, Steve realized that all teenagers experienced that, gay or straight, popular or nerd, or anywhere in between, high school was tough for everybody. Mostly because teenagers were uncomfortable with themselves and just took it out on everybody else.

But now Steve feels like he’s finally comfortable in his own skin. And it seems that that’s the key to being comfortable with somebody else. After some awkward teenage dates and some fumbling encounters in his car, Steve is dating Misha Collins. His fingers stroke idly over the strings of his guitar as Steve thinks of Misha’s laughing blue eyes, pixie-ish looks, cutting sarcasm.

Steve had met Misha through Jensen, one of Steve’s best friends. He had probably gone to school with Misha his whole life, but because of the size of the schools, had never really spoken to the guy. Through Jensen though, they kept ending up at the same things and then Misha asked him out.

Misha’s really hot, and kooky and stares off into space a lot thinking about God knows what, but they hit it off when they really spent some time together. With every other guy, it was one step forward and two steps back, Steve was nervous, afraid of being caught, uncomfortable going further. But with Misha, Steve feels plenty comfortable getting physical.

And, though they’ve only been dating two months, Misha is definitely agreeable to going further than hurried handjobs and fumbling blowjobs. Misha doesn’t have a car but he told Steve outright that the stationwagon was the perfect car for having sex. And then Misha had waggled his eyebrows playfully and made Steve laugh.

Now going further is all that Steve can think about. He hates to be a teenage horndog cliché, but he’s ready and he wants. He wants to know what sex feels like. Unfortunately, Misha’s job at the coffeeshop is scheduling him exactly opposite of Steve’s own work schedule at the record store so they have no time to be together at all, much less be together like that. Steve sighs and turns his attention more fully to the guitar in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, Steve notices a familiar figure moving closer to lie in a patch of sunlight nearby. Steve’s never actually met this guy who seems to strategically place himself around Steve whenever Steve’s there with his guitar, but it’s actually really flattering.

It’s easy to tell that the teen is homeless, probably a runaway. His clothes, too-large jeans and a green t-shirt saying ‘Turtle’ are threadbare but not in the comfortable way that Steve’s are. The guy seems to be making an effort to keep them and himself clean, but he and the clothes are dirty anyway.

Despite all that Steve has to admit the guy is attractive. He has a strong jaw but full lips, large eyes so blue that Steve can see the color from here, standing out in the guy’s tan face beneath short chestnut colored hair. Steve’s spent lots of time wondering about him, wondering why he’s on the streets, wondering how difficult it is to be there, wondering if the guy’s looks add to his difficulties. The guy only looks as old as Steve himself if not younger.

Steve is settling in to play a song that he’s been working on for a while when he notices the guy getting up like someone lit a fire underneath him. He looks around in time to see a group of three other teenagers coming up. It’s not a surprise to see the faces of all four boys tight in anger. He can hear raised voices but can’t determine what the fight is about.

Despite that it doesn’t involve Steve in the slightest, he sets his guitar gently aside. He doesn’t know the guy but Steve has seen him around enough to feel compelled to get up. Steve is surprised when the pretty guy is the one to throw the first punch. The guy is smaller than his opponents but he’s all bravado, using his extended arm to then pull the one in front forward and down on the ground. He’s on top in a heartbeat, beating his opponent soundly for a moment until the other two catch onto what’s happening.

The balance shifts then, the greater number of his opponents working against him as Steve knew it would. The pretty one is pulled off of his target and surrounded by flailing limbs punching and pulling. The guy on the ground and Steve stand up at the same time. Steve has no idea what he’ll do when he gets over there but…

Steve never finds out how he’d be in a fight. Even as he’s approaching, the teens keep looking around, presumably for the cops that are always in the park for moments just like this. The fight ends quickly as they dump the pretty one on the ground and run off.

With the immediate danger now past, Steve slows his steps, asking himself what he thinks he’s doing. Nevertheless, he can’t prevent his feet from carrying him forward in concern for the other teen. Slowly the injured teen rises to his hands and knees, spitting a few times into the grass though Steve can’t see if it’s blood.

After that the teen hastily gets to his feet, taking a few stumbling steps forward before finding his balance and breaking into a run, never looking behind him at Steve whose hand is raised and mouth open. Any words he had thought to say die in his throat and Steve feels a little disappointed.  
***************

Christian is irritated as he slows his running, entering a more densely forested area of the park where the homeless have set up a sort of tent city. Wiping his bleeding lip on the sleeve of his t-shirt, he’s practically shuddering with impotent rage.

Those fuckers, he thinks. He’s been on the streets of LA for almost two years and those guys think that they can push him around. Just because he doesn’t hang out in a group or gang, preferring instead to be by himself, to look after himself.

And it doesn’t matter that it had been three against one, that he was smaller than any of his opponents, the fact that he’d been unable to defend himself, that he’d been at the mercy of others itches under his skin, eating his control, his peace of mind. He feels humiliated. He wants to throw something, he needs to hit someone, he just…

“Hey boy! You lookin’ for something?”

Spinning around, Christian almost falls over at the unexpected intrusion into his thoughts. He hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings and is surprised to spin around and see that he has walked past three men sitting on a dirty sleeping bag. Still, one look at the one man who has spoken, who is now standing and walking toward him and Christian knows exactly what the ‘something’ is that the man is offering.

Christian’s body softens immediately, his stance widening into a more inviting pose. He doesn’t need to say anything, the man is as well-versed in these subtle interactions as Christian himself. With a simple tip of the man’s head at a more secluded direction, Christian is leading the way, shuddering now with anticipation.

He’s only taken a few steps into the underbrush when a large hand settles on his upper back between his shoulder blades, pushing him down to his knees on the grass and dirt. But Christian doesn’t feel the rocks cutting into his palms or the bruises blooming on his face as his whole attention is on the large hands at his belt.

“Come on, man,” Christian says in a hoarse whisper. His answer is a throaty laugh as the man roughly pulls his jeans down over his hips.

“So it’s like that, boy?” the man asks and Christian hates the smugness that he can hear in the man’s voice. He just wants the guy to hurry the hell up.

His wish is granted when two wet fingers are plunged callously into his ass. He can’t help the groan that escapes his open mouth, but he can still hear the guy laughing. It doesn’t matter though, not when the fingers are slipping out and something bigger and blunter is pressing insistently inside.

Christian is pressing his hips back just as insistently, enjoying the painful burning of being breached, that fire that feels like it could consume his whole body. He drops to his elbows, resting his forehead on his left arm as his right is already reaching towards his leaking dick. The guy behind him is pushing up his t-shirt with one hand and Christian wants to shove off the touch but then the guy starts thrusting fast and hard.

Jerking his dick just as fast, Christian concentrates entirely on reaching his orgasm, blocking out the feel of the man’s hand on his back, the man’s hips and balls hitting his ass, the sound of the man panting and grunting behind him. He wants to cum, wants that release, needs it…

“Unh, uh-huh,” Christian bites his lip hard to stifle any further noises as he stiffens, jerking his hips erratically in the grasp of large hands, fingers pressing into soft skin. Making noises of appreciation, the man grips tighter, pulls Christian in hard, thrusting deep, too deep as Christian whimpers even as he’s spilling hot over his hand and onto the ground.

Christian is panting in the aftermath. It’s not until the man starts to pull out that he realizes they didn’t use a condom. The man’s softening cock slides out wetly, trails of cum dripping out of Christian and running down his thighs. Fuck, Christian thinks. He knows better, knows to use protection but he just doesn’t think, just lets the guy do whatever.

The guy’s hand is still hot and heavy on his bare back as Christian looks down at his own hands. They’re filthy with dirt and cum and blood, filthy just like he is.

And then Christian is pushing the guy off, away. “Get off, man.”

When the man chuckles this time, saying, “Don’t be like that, baby,” in a teasing voice, Christian flushes red with shame. He can’t help shoving an elbow at the guy torso before he’s attempting to stand up with his pants around his ankles. Yanking them up angrily over his cum-streaked thighs, Christian tries not to look at the man that he just let fuck him.

And he doesn’t look back as he walks gracelessly away. He’s sore from the friction, walking with a wide stance as if bowlegged, and he can feel the man’s wetness between his asscheeks with every step he takes. He makes his way to the public bathrooms in the park, stiff with the knowledge that everyone can see how filthy he is, that everyone knows what he tries to hide.

Stepping up the sink, he’s grateful to find the bathroom empty. Christian starts by washing his hands. There isn’t a whole lot he can do about his clothes right then, but he has a couple extras in the backpack he keeps hidden. Still he can’t help swiping at the stains on his t-shirt angrily before wetting a couple of paper towels and taking them into a stall.  
**********

Steve enters the front door of his house feeling a little out of sorts. After his audience had run off, he really hadn’t been able to play anything. He’s still worrying over the other teen even though he doesn’t even know the guy.

Setting his guitar case by the door to his room, he meanders into the kitchen where he can hear his mom moving about, the whistle of the teakettle.

She doesn’t disappoint, smiling as she sees him. “Hey honey, I was just making some tea. Did you want some?”

Steve can’t help smiling and shaking his head even as he answers, “Sure,” and sits down at the table. He’s not surprised when a plate of his favorite peanut butter cookies appears in front of him either. But when he takes a cookie, he only picks at it, still thinking over the events of the afternoon.

“Spill it.” Steve’s face jerks up instantly at the change in his mom’s tone of voice. “I can see that you want to talk about something so talk.”

Sheepish that his mom still knows him so well, Steve sets the cookie down and sighs. “There’s this guy…”

His mom’s snorted laughter makes him stop and roll his eyes. Yeah, the guy is hot but that’s not why Steve is upset. Really, it’s weird that his mom is so concerned about his love life. “Mo-om, not like that. Jesus…”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. It’s this homeless teen in the park who always listens to me play on Sundays. I…”

“You feel sorry for him and want to help,” his mom finishes matter of fact. “My little bleeding heart…”

It’s Steve who snorts this time. “We all know where I get it from,” he says teasingly. His mom was a hippie back in the seventies during college, and even though she’s now a house-wife with a cooking blog, her bleeding heart ways never wore off.

His mom’s smile is a little sad, and she’s silent for a minute. “You can’t just expect to fix things for this boy…”

“I know, mom…” Steve whines, hating when she acts like he’s a little kid, like he doesn’t know that he can’t just fix this guy’s life.

“But,” she continues past his interruption. “If you want to help, do it. Just be aware that he may not be all that accepting at first.”

Steve nods gravely at the responsibility and picks up the cookie again. He still can’t seem to actually eat it though.

“Stop staring at it and eat, Steven. Don’t start thinking that you should feel bad for everything that you have and he doesn’t. It won’t do either of you any good. You were lucky enough to be born into a loving family that feeds you and keeps a roof over your head. You should be thankful for those things and not waste them.”

With an indulgent grin, Steve bites into the cookie that his mom is so worked up over. But she still keeps talking, “And you haven’t wasted it. You get good grades, practice your music, are responsible at your job…”

“Thanks, mom, I get it.”

He sips his tea then and listens to his mom talk about her latest recipe creation to be posted on her blog. Eventually he goes into his room and plays Halo on his Xbox 360 until his dad returns home from playing golf for dinner.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian emerges from the bathroom as the sky is darkening, the sun making its descent toward the horizon. He hurries as much as he can back toward the more secluded section of the park, the wooded section that the cops don’t pay any attention to.

He’s still limping as he makes his way past the other homeless persons who make their home there, young and old, but Christian doesn’t speak to any of them. After two years of living as one of them, Christian’s silence is certainly not because he feels superior to any of them. He just doesn’t want to make friends, make connections, doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone, doesn’t want to care about anyone but himself. He’s only just turned seventeen years old on June 27, but Christian is too intimately aware of losing a person that he loves.

** Chris is 8 years old, a small boy with longish chestnut hair and big blue eyes that are trained on his momma sitting on a small couch across the room from him. She’s dressed in a long black skirt and black blouse, black like all the other women sitting around her, like all the people in Chris’s house. And she’s crying, her face is all crinkled up and she’s holding a tissue in front of her, grasping with both hands.

Chris is sitting on his uncle’s lap, his momma’s brother. He’s wearing a black suit himself, stiff and uncomfortable. He can feel his older sister, Jenny shifting in her nice dress as she sits beside them. His uncle is trying to get his attention but Chris isn’t paying any attention. His Dad is dead. He thinks of the sight of his Dad in the hospital, barely recognizable as the big, strong man Chris had known, the man who had taught him to play little league baseball. He doesn’t really understand what it means when they say that his Daddy’s in heaven, but he knows that Dad’s not coming back.

His uncle’s wife hands a plate of food each to him and his sister. He doesn’t want to eat, wants to chuck the food away and start screaming and crying like a toddler. He doesn’t. He wants to be good for his mama. She doesn’t need to deal with him now, not when she’s already so upset. So he holds the plate in his lap and sits more quietly and still than he’s ever managed before.**

He remembers when his family moved from Texas to Oklahoma. It was a sweltering hot day the summer that Christian turned 6 years old and Jenny was 10. He and Jenny were both sad to say goodbye to their friends, but still a little excited to see their new home. Norman, Oklahoma was only three hours away, but it felt like they were moving to a different world.

He remembers his Dad, tall and dark and strong as he watched the movers pack up the last of their things into the moving van, and he remembers the blessed coolness of the air conditioning when they all finally piled in the car to make the journey themselves. Jenny groaned when their Dad’s old country music came over the speakers, Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Jr., newer artists like Alabama, and even Southern rock from the Allman Brothers and the Marshall Tucker Band. Christian had smiled though, and sang along with his mama’s voice, catching his Dad’s dark eyes in the rearview mirror and seeing the love and affection there.

Even when his Dad was busy getting settled into his job after the move, he made time to take Christian to the park with a baseball and a couple of gloves to practice for Little League. His Dad bought them all turquoise necklaces to celebrate his mama’s Cherokee heritage. He barbecued in their new backyard, teaching Christian how to do it just right so the meat was crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside while Jenny showed their momma what she learned in her new dance class, prancing about on bare feet in the soft grass. Christian remembers how his momma looked in the dying sunlight, gazing over at Daddy with that soft look on her face like she had eyes only for him even with two kids running around her legs.

But all of those happy memories are overshadowed by the memories of his Dad’s death. They were sitting at the round dinner table waiting, watching momma become more and more upset by Dad’s absence. Christian had seen his mama cry before and, even when it was just because of a commercial on tv it always hurt deep in his gut to watch, but when he watched her take that telephone call…He can’t express even now how he felt when he watched her fall apart. He wanted so much to help, to comfort, to do something, but he and Jenny had just sat the kitchen table stunned and confused, too naïve to even conceive of what car wreck really meant.

After that people started to come, Daddy’s family, momma’s brother. It was like his momma was constantly surrounded by a protective cocoon of people, who also kept Christian and Jenny out, kept them busy. All he had wanted to do was to curl up in his momma’s lap and cling to her like the world was ending, like she could make everything better again like she always had before. But instead, everything was stiff and formal, being shepherded around to the hospital and the church by relatives. Nothing would ever be the same.**

Christian shakes away those thoughts forcefully, telling himself that there’s no changing the past. There’s no changing that hollow emptiness in his chest when he thinks of his Dad and his mama and his sister. He’ll never stop wanting to just curl up on his momma’s lap and soak in her comfort, never stop wishing to see his Dad one more time, never stop worrying for his sister and hoping she’s happy. But it’s not going to happen.

His movements are stiff as he grabs his worn backpack out of its hiding place in the hollow of a dead tree trunk. He remembers when he first got to LA and found the spot, how he wanted to wedge himself in that tiny space, just hide from everyone when it felt like the whole world was out to get him.

He learned the hard way that out here, he has to look out for himself at all times. Though there is a camaraderie amongst the people here, it’s simply a matter of survival and people will take from him whatever they can even if he thinks them friends.

Now he keeps his stuff, what’s left of what he had originally brought with him as hidden as he can make it when he isn’t actually carrying it with him. He still has a couple pairs of jeans and boxers and a few t-shirts in his backpack. The sleeping bag that he had brought had been stolen, but he’s managed to find an old dirty one. Fortunately it never gets that cold in LA because Christian refuses to sleep inside the bag, only uses it to keep himself off the cold hard ground. Still it gets cold enough in the winter when he is sleeping outside in a t-shirt. And it gets hot enough in the summer.

He changes, out in the open against the now sapphire sky. There’s no one around but he hates it anyway so he pulls on the other t-shirt as quickly as possible. Changing makes him feel exposed and vulnerable, not just because anyone could see but because he doesn’t like to be naked even when he’s alone. He likes the protection of his clothes.

Stuffing the dirty clothes into the front of the pack to wash at some point, Christian goes ahead and pulls out the sleeping bag from the trunk too. It’s dark but it’s not actually late and he hasn’t eaten for hours, but he doesn’t feel like going out of the park to the streets and alleys of LA, not even to dumpster dive behind the Chinese place where the woman knows him.

Instead he spreads out the sleeping bag over the ground. He picks this place because of the rocky ground that makes it unattractive to most. He just wants to be left alone.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Steve gets up the next morning and heads over to the Perks coffee-shop where Misha works. He himself doesn’t have to work until the afternoon and he has plans for the day.

He intentionally gets to the coffee-shop just before the lunch rush and after the morning rush. The manager doesn’t like it when the employees hang out with their friends, but if it’s slow…

The first person that he meets going through the door is Jensen Ackles who’s cleaning the empty mugs from a front table. Jensen had moved from Richardson, TX in both his and Steve’s sophomore year. They bonded first over the guitar, but Jensen was the first person that Steve was close to who was openly gay. Jensen was a great inspiration and support system when Steve came out himself that year.

“Hey Jens, where’s Misha?”

“Awww, it’s so sweet of you to come see me at work, Steve. Really, I didn’t know you cared…”

“Please,” Misha says, coming up behind Jensen and taking a coffee cup to look like he’s helping. “Like Jared hasn’t developed a caffeine addiction with the amount of time he spends here just to see you. I’m gonna start slipping him decaf because he definitely does not need caffeine…”

Steve grins at the light blush that creeps up Jensen’s face at the mention of Jared Padalecki. Jared is in the grade below them and moved from San Antonio, TX at the beginning of summer. They’ve been dating practically since Jared’s first day.

Steve isn’t blind to the fact that Jensen is hot. Steve is used to Jensen dating and hooking up a lot, and telling Steve about it in excruciating detail, but Jared is the first guy that Jensen really seems interested in for more than a couple of dates and some fun. It’s sweet, really, the way that Jensen has suddenly turned shy about it, but none of them can resist teasing Jensen.

“Oh, shut up,” Jensen says, turning away with an expression part glare and part sheepish smile which only Jensen could pull off.

Leaving Steve with Misha. They can’t touch or kiss at Misha’s work, but they’re both wearing stupidly happy grins as they walk back over to the register.

“The iced chai tea?” Misha asks with a look towards the office.

Steve nods, unwilling to admit that his own high-priced beverage consumption has skyrocketed with Misha working here. “So how was the morning rush?”

“A-mazing,” Misha replies with a smug smile. “Seriously. I thought that Jensen was going to throw a mug at this one man’s head when he kept complaining about the weight of his cappuccino…”

Steve laughs in spite of himself because it’s all too easy to imagine Jensen actually throwing something hard at one of the customers. “Any chance you’ll be off this weekend? Jason was talking about having a party…?”

Misha’s smile drops into a scowl. “I’ll have to see if anyone will switch with me.”

Steve nods in understanding as he takes his drink from Emily, the girl assigned as barista that day. He gives her a smile but she’s in college and doesn’t talk much to them.

Turning back to Misha behind the counter, they’re both silent for a moment, but Steve takes the time to just sip his drink and look at Misha. He really hopes Misha can switch with somebody and come to the party because looking is only increasing Steve’s want.

The silence lingers just long enough to become distinctly uncomfortable and Steve releases the straw from his lips. They both begin to speak though Steve didn’t really know what he was going to say, so he just motions for Misha to continue.

“Who cares about the weight of their drink anyway? I mean, I know that cappuccino is supposed to be light and everything, but it’s like Einstein’s theory of relativity, it’s only light in comparison to other drinks. It’s like this book I read…”

Misha takes advanced mathematics and physics courses and Steve does not so Steve is only partially listening since he doesn’t know anything about cappuccino either and the only word he understands is Einstein. Steve likes that Misha’s smart and even that he’s kooky, but often he just has nothing to add to the conversation.

They chat until customers start arriving again, and then Steve says goodbye to Misha and Jensen and gets back in his car for his second errand.

Steve has seen the teen from the park hanging out on the streets before as he was driving past, so Steve drives around a little looking for him. It’s not like the guy is hanging out in gang territory or anything so it doesn’t take too long to find him.

When Steve does spot the guy, he doesn’t immediately park his car. Instead he parks at a nearby restaurant that he’s been to before and picks up an order to go. Steve figures that food is a pretty good peace offering in this case, even if he’s not trying to find the way to the guy’s heart through his stomach.

Picking a big sandwich with a side of fries, he walks over to where he saw the guy sitting. The guy has changed, is now wearing a dark grey-blue Von Dutch t-shirt, and now he has darkening bruises along one side of his jaw and a split lip. The injuries don’t seem to diminish his hotness at all.

Christian scowls and looks away as he sees the blonde musician from the park approach. He thinks it figures that he wouldn’t be that lucky when the hippie kid stops right in front of him.

“Hey,” Steve starts, feeling a little awkward as he tucks long blonde strands behind his ears with his free hand.

The guy doesn’t make it any easier as he looks up at Steve from his seat on the sidewalk with a lopsided scowl on his face. “What?” the guy says caustically.

Christian can tell that his attitude is throwing the guy off but not enough for the hippie to walk away. “Look, I’ve seen you in the park…”

“So? It’s a public park. Anyone can be there, even people like me,” Christian cuts the blonde guy off.

Steve’s mouth falls open in shock at the attitude of this guy that has prevented him from getting out a single complete thought. “I know. I-I brought you a sandwich,” he tries dumbly, opening the Styrofoam box so the guy can see the food.

Christian can’t help looking into the box, certainly can’t help the way that his mouth waters at what he sees, bacon and cheese and mayonnaise…Still he tears his eyes away. Normally Christian isn’t above begging, isn’t above dumpster diving to keep from starving, isn’t above much really. But to take charity from this kid suddenly irks him, this kid who comes from his nice family and nice home, with his long hair and collection of jewelry looking at him with those pitying blue eyes. This kid reminds him of everything that he’ll never be, never have, reminds him how far from normal he is.

Besides, the hippie is offering him a sandwich like he can’t be trusted with money, like he might spend it on drugs. “I don’t want it,” he says even though it pains him.

Steve is dumbfounded now. Sure, lots of adolescents are skinny, growing upwards before they have had time to fill out, but this kid looks haggard, muted and drawn as well as skinny. The kid has got to be hungry.

“If you want a charity case, there are plenty around,” the guy says dismissively.

“But I bought it for you,” Steve tries, still holding out the box like an ass. He just can’t figure out what this guy’s problem is.

“Fine,” Christian says, his irritation rising. He snatches the box out of the blonde’s hands, closing the lid so that he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. “Happy? You can go now.”

Steve watches as the kid whose name Steve never even got, gets clumsily to his feet as if there are more bruises hidden underneath his t-shirt. Steve doesn’t know what he could say to stop the guy from walking away, he doesn’t even know if he wants to stop the guy at this point. So he turns around and walks back to his car.

Despite that Christian hadn’t wanted to take the sandwich, he’s protective of it as he walks into the park, deep into the most secluded sections. But as he sits down against a tree, he doesn’t open the box, doesn’t wolf the food down. He suddenly feels ashamed at how hungry he is, like he is less than human like all those business people think who pass him on the street.

He’s brought out of his own personal pity party by the sound of giggling. He recognizes the sound, knows who’s making it before a little girl with brown hair and eyes pops out of the underbrush, followed closely by her older brother. The girl, Liz, runs straight at Christian upon seeing him, hopping into his lap and begging the teen to protect her even as she laughs.

Liz is seven and her brother Daniel is nine and Christian has known them the four months that they’ve been on the streets. They’re dirty and their hair is unbrushed, but it’s still better than what they’re hiding from. Their mother, Mary is in her late twenties but looks much older. It was years of abuse that caused her to finally leave the man she still calls husband before he laid a hand on one of their kids. But, predictably, the women’s shelter is full.

Daniel plops down on the dirt right beside them, no longer interested in chasing his sister now that Christian is there. Without a second thought, Christian opens the box and hands the boy half the sandwich. “Now you have to share this, ok? C’mon, where’s your momma?” he says as he stands, dislodging Liz who’s more interested in the sandwich now.

Mary isn’t far away, is in fact walking towards the three of them and Christian extends the rest of the box to her.

“Oh, Christian, don’t do that,” she scolds in typical motherly fashion. “You’re so skinny, you need to eat it yourself.”

Christian just smiles, big and wide, “You should’ve seen what I’ve already eaten. This hippie kid was feeling generous.” He shrugs disarmingly even as Mary clucks her tongue at him, before reluctantly taking the box that he pushes at her again.

He averts his eyes as she looks at him long and hard before she sits on the grass, letting her kids reach inside the box for the fries. Christian has to move away then, feels suddenly like he’s intruding on an intimate moment.

Finding a nice piece of grass and sunshine, he lies down, tired as he always seems to be nowadays though he hasn’t exercised in two years. Sometimes he feels uncomfortable around Mary because she reminds him of his own mother. He hates to even imagine his own momma in this kind of situation, his mama who always tries so hard to take care of everyone and everything.

After his Dad’s death, things were hard. The extended family went home, leaving just the three of them trying to readjust. Christian had lain in his bed at night with the light still on, curled on his side and trying not to let the sobs out that built in his chest. He learned from his momma, heard her crying through the thin walls, those tears she didn’t want them to have to watch. In the mornings, she still sent them to school with a kiss, but it felt different, controlled.

They didn’t really have time to get used to being a threesome though, because his momma had to get a job to cover their bills. At the time, she’d laughed with shadows in her eyes and said that being a homemaker apparently wasn’t good experience when re-entering the workforce. At eight, Christian hadn’t understood what that meant, all he knew was that he felt like he was suffocating and didn’t know what to do about it, didn’t want to hurt his momma by showing his own pain or talking about Daddy.

His momma ended up working endless hours at a diner in town as a waitress. He and Jenny ended up there a few times, eating French fries and watching their mama hide her sadness and exhaustion behind a smile and a ‘can I get you anything else?’ Most of the time though, Jenny and he were left at home by themselves.

Most of the time, their momma would pick them up after school, though sometimes, they would have to wait at school for a couple hours. There wasn’t really money for a babysitter, but it was fine because they were plenty old enough for microwaveable meals. Momma’s schedule was often last-minute so it was hard to her to have something ready for them to eat.

Christian had always been a friendly and popular kid, even when they had moved, but suddenly there was no one to pick him up from Little League, no money to pay for things like that. Suddenly, he found himself sitting alone most nights, not wanting to go to his friends’ houses every night and pretend to be happy. Jenny, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stand being in that empty house and was always going over to a friend’s house and leaving Christian there. It had seemed like all the laughter had just dried up. Before they had spent time together, eaten dinner together, done homework and watched tv and played board games at night, went to the park on the weekends, but afterward…afterward, they were all separate, each trying to deal with or cover up their grief in their own way.

It was in those dark hours that Christian discovered the guitar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t played before, his cousin Brandon had taught him how to read the sheet music and form the chords, but it was when he discovered how much music meant to him. That was when he discovered how music could soothe him, allow him to let out his pain, discovered how music could lift his spirits. He used to sit and play those old songs his Daddy used to love and cry then because he was alone.

Christian hates the fact that he abandoned his momma. Jenny was nineteen when he left, a sophomore at OU on a dance scholarship and living on campus, but he just up and left his momma. The guilt of that just joins with all the other guilt he feels and sits heavy in his chest almost all the time. He still believes she’s better off without him, though he hopes that she still has some to look after her.

He doesn’t want to think of the hippie kid, but that’s where his mind inevitably goes. He’s listened to lots of people playing guitars in the park, but most of them are posers who just think that playing the guitar makes them look cool. The blonde is really good, though, and sometimes he even plays old country songs, songs that remind Christian of his home in a bittersweet way.

It has nothing at all to do with the way the hippie seems to glow in the sunlight, blonde and golden and perfect and unattainable. Christian knows that he won’t be able to stay away when the hippie plays, not when he has so few things to look forward to, but next Sunday, he’ll make sure to stay out of sight.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

By the time Steve is storming in his house, he has moved past stunned and perplexed and into just plain pissed.

“What is his problem?” The question is voiced out loud as Steve enters the kitchen, not that he really expects his mom to have the answer. Mostly he just wants to get his frustration out. “I’m trying to be nice and he just threw it in my face!”

“Literally?”

“What?” The seemingly nonsensical question halts Steve’s tirade. “No, not literally, mom. But he was a dick before he finally took the sandwich.”

With those words, Steve slumps down into his seat at the kitchen table where there is already a vegetable curry waiting. His mom always wants to make him a nutritious lunch before he goes to work because she knows that he’ll eat hamburgers with his friends for dinner.

She sighs before joining him at the table. “I told you it wouldn’t be easy. You hurt his pride…”

“What pride? I’ve seen him begging on the street.”

“Yes, but you’re his age. It probably bothers him more that you have money to spend when he doesn’t.”

And just like that, Steve deflates, his anger quenched by sympathy and concern. Angry at himself now, he puts his elbows on the table. “Mom, why do you think he’s out there?”

It’s the question that he doesn’t want to think about but can’t escape from. And his mom looks none too pleased at speculating. “Honey, children can sometimes fall through the cracks. Not everyone’s parents can afford to take care of them…”

“And sometimes they’re running away from something,” Steve cut in. It’s that possibility that makes him determined to try again to reach the other teen.

He tries to eat then and his mom distracts him by asking who he’s working with tonight. It works because Steve’s working with Jason Southard who’s been his friend practically since kindergarten and who shares his love of music and the guitar. They’re only half-joking when they talk about forming a band.

Without even realizing it, Steve’s finished his lunch and then he’s headed to the record store for the evening shift. It’s Monday so they’re not likely to be real busy.

In fact, he and Jason spend most of the time simply picking out songs to play over the store’s stereo and arguing about the artists.

“Dude, you have got to be kidding me with this choice…” Jason’s talking when the bell over the door sounds and Steve looks over in time to see Misha walking in the door with Jensen and Jared.

It’s embarrassing how Steve immediately stops listening to Jason and is instead smiling ridiculously at his boyfriend. But Misha is smiling just as wide as he approaches the counter and leans on it with his elbows. He’s leaning so far over the counter that he’s within kissing distance of Steve which has Steve’s mind immediately thinking of doing just that.

“So how’re things?” Misha says.

The manager is never there and there are no customers anyway, so instead of answering the question, Steve’s smile morphs into a smirk and he’s rounding the counter and grabbing Misha’s wrist.

“Come on,” he says and he’s so excited that he almost giggles. He leads Misha to the door of a stockroom, catching Jason’s thumbs-up signal as he ushers his boyfriend inside. Steve’s still trying to close the door when Misha pulls him in with a long arm, pulling Steve so close Steve’s neck is in the crook of Misha’s elbow.

Steve figures he’ll just hope the door is closed as his hands go to Misha’s waist. Because of their excitement, the kiss is fumbling at first as they try to find a rhythm, try to figure out who’s leading this dance. But then Misha’s tongue slips into Steve’s mouth and Steve stops trying to control anything. Misha’s tongue is thick and hot as it pushes in too far before pulling back to tangle with Steve’s own. Regardless of any fumbling, Steve can’t help the slight jerk of his hips seeking friction against Misha’s thigh.

It’s when Steve’s back hits the door, stumbling against Misha’s weight as the taller teen tries to get closer that Steve remembers why this is a bad idea. He can feel the outline of Misha’s hard dick pushing against the stiffness of the other teen’s jeans against his stomach, but still Steve pushes against Misha’s chest to separate them.

Fortunately Misha catches on immediately and they separate, Misha’s hands moving from Steve’s body to lie flat on the door on either side of Steve’s face to hold them apart. He wishes that they could do more, that they could do anything, but he very well knows that they can’t. He’s just hoping that eventually they will.

Steve pushes himself off the door causing Misha to take a step back so they don’t resume their earlier closeness. But as the brunette’s hands drop from their place on the wall, Misha grasps each of Steve’s own hands. It’s sweet and adorable and makes Steve’s heart swell and his face hot.

So like the sap he is, Steve lifts up one of their joined hands so that he can press a moist kiss to the top of Misha’s knuckles. And he doesn’t feel even a little bit stupid for it when Misha smiles brighter and moves closer, pressing his kiss to Steve’s forehead.

When it’s safe to walk out of the storeroom, Steve averts his eyes from Jensen’s mocking gaze but he doesn’t drop Misha’s hand. He figures he has it coming after all the times he’s teased Jensen about Jared. And then Jensen speaks.

“Did you have fun in the closet, Misha? Because I have to take you and Sasquatch here home.”

Steve looks up in time to see Jensen shaking his head at Jared who is engrossed in telling some story to Jason resulting in both of them flailing their exceptionally longs arms as they gesture wildly. Steve also doesn’t miss the way that Jensen’s face radiates affection even while he’s punching Jared in the arm and dragging the taller teen away.

It’s sweet because Jensen doesn’t wear his emotions that openly, so it’s significant that he can’t seem to hide his feelings about Jared. Misha pulls Steve’s hand to get his attention and then Misha’s lips are gently pressing on his own. It’s short and sweet and no more than straight couples would do in public but…still, it’s in public, in full view of Steve’s friends.

And Steve really, really likes it, particularly when he looks up to only see affectionately exasperated faces around them. That level of acceptance just shows Steve exactly how lucky he is and how far he’s come.

With a last squeeze of fingers, Jensen takes Misha and Jared home. Steve and Jason get burgers for dinner as expected and Steve only has a momentary thought of a skinny, blue-eyed teen as he eats it.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It isn’t until Friday that Steve has time to try and find the homeless teen again. He’s had the day shift since Monday and isn’t quite stupid enough to be looking around after dark. But on Friday he doesn’t have to work until the afternoon and he’s determined to win this guy over for reasons he can’t even explain to himself. There’s just something about the guy.

And he’s got a different idea this time. He’s still not entirely sure why the food didn’t work considering that the guy actually looks malnourished, but whatever. Steve does know that the guy is interested in the guitar, so that’s what he brings this time as a peace offering.

He drives around again, but doesn’t see the guy on any of the major streets. Steve debates going to the park, but he knows that the homeless are usually in the alleys so he decides to get out and check before driving to the park. Slinging the guitar case over his back, the strap crossing over his chest, Steve heads down the nearest alleyway that he can see people in.

It’s a sunny day, right before noon, but still walking back there makes Steve uncomfortable, not necessarily about his own safety but more because he feels so out of place. He feels rude for just being there in his nice clothes amidst these people’s desolation.

Christian is scowling as he turns into the next alleyway but not at anything in particular until he catches sight of the hippie in the same alleyway. He can’t fucking believe that this kid is here, no doubt looking for him again. He has no idea what would make the hippie this persistent.

But what he really can’t believe is the fact that the stupid kid has his guitar with him, a precious instrument and one that can easily be hocked for hundreds of dollars. In fact, even as Christian is standing there stunned, he can see a couple of guys getting ready to make a move for it.

“Hey, hippie!” He yells to get the other teen’s attention even as he breaks out into a run. The idiot fucking smiles at seeing him but Christian just grabs the nearest arm, pulling them out of the alley.

The smile falls from Steve’s face at the brutal grasp on his elbow, but he doesn’t even get words out of his mouth before the guy is yanking him. They’re practically running, and Steve almost falls twice before they get back to the main street.

As soon as they’re among more suburban pedestrians, Steve’s arm is being released with a harsh push away from the guy. “Wha…?”

“What the fuck did you think you were doing? You don’t belong down here!”

Steve’s own anger bubbles up in response to the guy’s heated tone. “What is your fucking problem?! I can go wherever I damn well please!”

“That guitar was almost stolen right off your back!” the guy yells.

Steve huffs indignantly. “How would you know? You just came running around the corner.”

“They’re desperate. Hell, I woulda stolen it.”

Their voices had softened to a normal level though the adrenaline still floods their systems. “But you didn’t.” It’s half a statement and half a question.

Steve watches as the guy’s blue eyes slide away as if he’s embarrassed, embarrassed that he admitted something like that to Steve. “Yeah, well, then I couldn’t listen to you play it.”

Steve can’t possibly stop the small smile that curves the edges of his lips even though he desperately tries. “Yeah?”

It suddenly doesn’t matter how obnoxious this guy has been, Steve feels like he’s just won something. “So I guess I’ll see you in the park this Sunday then. Same time.” For once, he’s got the upper hand and Steve wants to leave while he still has it. So with a last smile, he turns back to his car.

Christian can’t believe the smug, satisfied smile on the hippie’s face. He can’t believe he let the hippie get to him like that, get to him enough that he said something stupid and honest.

Turning away from watching the other teen walk away, Christian’s face is set again in a scowl as he makes his way toward the park. But this time the scowl has a reason.

He doesn’t want or need this teen’s sudden interest in his life. He still can’t understand it anyway. There has to be a reason, the hippie has to want something.

But it doesn’t matter, because Christian doesn’t need anyone’s concern. His vision is blurry with unshed tears as he drops to the ground with his back against a tree in a deserted section of the park. He remembers how pathetic he had been after his Dad’s death, how needy for affection and attention. He doesn’t want to go back to that.

**Christian’s nine years old and just beginning the fourth grade. He’s still small, still has shaggy longish brown hair and big blue eyes, and his Daddy’s been gone for more than a year.

He still misses his Dad. He misses his momma too, even as he waits for her to pick them up from school. Jenny’s waiting out front, but Christian walks over to the school gym. He wants to watch some of the sports teams practice, particularly the wrestling team. He can’t join a team himself, his momma can’t pick him up afterwards, but he can’t help wanting to watch.

He’s standing off to the side, trying to be inconspicuous when a large warm hand lands on his back. Looking up, he sees it’s the high school wrestling coach, Mr. Morgan. The man is practically a saint in this town, winning championships, getting kids into college on scholarship, and being ‘a pillar of the community’ his mom says.

Mr. Morgan is clean-shaven with dark, tousled hair and intense dark eyes, and he’s looking down on Christian with a pleased smile. “W-what’re you doing here?” Christian stutters out.

“Checking out the up-and-coming talent. Are you on a team?”

“No,” Christian shakes his head, feeling suddenly insignificant.

“Well, why not?” Mr. Morgan asks with a concerned frown. “You look like you’re a good athlete.”

Christian’s smile at the compliment is small as he shrugs, explaining, “My momma can’t pick me up, you know, after practice.”

“Maybe I can help,” Mr. Morgan’s smiling again, wide with lots of white teeth. “After all, we need the best on the team if we’re going to keep winning championships for years to come.”

Mr. Morgan escorts Christian back out front to wait and then he and Christian’s momma talk. Christian hears “I’ll take him home, no problem”, and “don’t worry about any additional costs, Mrs. Kane”, but what Christian mostly focuses on is the hand still between his shoulder blades. It feels like his Daddy’s hand did, the weight of it, the warmth, the pride in gaining the man’s esteem and regard, in pleasing Mr. Morgan.**

Feeling desolate and alone, Christian falls to his side in the dirt underneath the tree his legs immediately curling inward. He doesn’t want to want, doesn’t want to need. He tries to be self-sufficient, tries to accept being alone because it’s better for him, better for everyone. He tries to be in control now, because even though it’s not great and he’s hungry and dirty and lonely, it’s better. And he doesn’t want some punk-ass hippie kid intruding on his solitude.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Saturday, Steve can’t wait for the party. Jason’s parents are divorced and he lives with his dad who goes out of town a lot on business. Jason has these get-togethers fairly frequently so it’s really not that exciting except that Misha is going to be there, having managed to find someone to cover his night shift at the coffee-shop.

It’s Jason’s day off at the record store completely and Steve works the shift with Will Amend, whom he doesn’t know all that well, but the kid is nice. Will is quiet which isn’t a bad thing; Steve thinks that they just need more time to get to know one another. But Steve knows that Will is a bassist and so before long they’re talking about music and bands.

Will’s coming to the party too, but he isn’t nearly as excited as Steve is. The shift can’t end soon enough for Steve’s taste, but eventually it does and he’s racing home. He showers and dresses, nice jeans and a pale blue and green button down, open at the neck to reveal an assortment of necklaces. His mom starts ragging on him the instant he leaves his room.

“Ooh, Steven has a hot date,” she whispers loudly to his dad who simply grunts before turning to look. Steve crosses his arms over his chest uncomfortably which just encourages his dad to join in on the fun.

“Yeah? This Misha kid again? Must be serious,” his father muses before taking his seat at the table. “When’s your curfew?”

“Da-ad,” Steve whines. Steve has never had a curfew. His mom mostly believes in trusting him until he proves himself untrustworthy. But every once in a while, his dad suddenly takes an interest in enforcing one, but is mostly ignored.

His mom tsks and comes forward to straighten his collar. “Just remember that you can call us no matter what, ok?”

Steve knows what she means, they’ve had the talk often enough. His mother believes that the trust thing applies to alcohol as well. In fact, she believes that teens should drink before the age of 21 so that they learn how to handle alcohol while there’s still someone to look out for them, so it won’t be this secret, forbidden thing.

Steve simply nods and moves out of reach of her hands to grab his wallet and keys. “Ok, well, I’m off.”

“Have fun and be safe!” his mom calls after him like she does every time.

Steve manages a wave as he hops into the driver’s seat, eager to go pick Misha up. Misha lives further away from town, pretty much in the opposite direction of Jason’s house, but obviously Steve doesn’t mind, just turn the radio up on the Stones playing “Sympathy for the Devil”.

He doesn’t even turn the car off at Misha’s house, has barely put the car in park when Misha is coming out the door. Steve has met Misha’s parents before, has had dinner with them so he figures it’s not rude if he doesn’t go inside to speak to them.

Besides Misha is already in the car with him and Steve can smell his cologne, something with hints of mint. “Hey,” he says for lack of anything else.

Misha returns the greeting and then plays with his radio dial until it lands on the classical station before Steve has even pulled the car out of the drive. The silence between them slowly edges toward awkward as Misha settles back in his seat and Steve can’t help darting his eyes between the road and his companion as he scrambles for something witty to say.

Misha actually hasn’t been to one of Jason’s get-togethers, since he only met Jason through Steve. “So Jensen and Jared are coming?” Steve asks, needlessly. He talks to Jensen practically every day, if not on the phone then playing Halo online together or playing basketball with Jared and Jason. Misha isn’t really into sports.

“Oh, yeah, they’ve got this whole phone tree thing to confuse their parents as to where they are.”

Steve nods. Jared obviously can’t ask his parents to stay over at Jensen’s house, and Jensen has used Steve’s parents as a link in the phone tree before. “So where do your parents think you’re staying?”

“At Jason’s.”

Steve frowns. “Do they not know that his dad is out of town?”

“Yeah, they know because I told them. I said there was gonna be a little party tonight, but I promised not to get in the car with anyone who had been drinking or smoking.” Misha says it so matter-of-factly, like everyone’s so honest with their parents.

“So they’re ok with you spending the night at some random guy’s house and drinking and smoking?” Steve has to ask.

“Yeah.”

Ok then, Steve thinks. Even his parents aren’t that laid back, they like to know the teen and the teen’s parents at least. And Steve hasn’t spoken to his parents about smoking weed, though he’s pretty sure his mom knows he sometimes does. Firstly because his mom seems to know everything that he does, and secondly, because Steve knows that he’s not as great as he thinks he is at covering it up. His mom knows what pot smells like.

Course that’s why Steve thinks she hasn’t said anything. She’d probably feel hypocritical to tell him not to smoke pot when she did at his age, that’s just how she thinks. Still, Steve is pretty sure that she’s not about to condone it…

“So did you bring your guitar?” Misha’s question brings Steve out of his own musings.

“Yeah, I did. It’s in the back.”

“Cool. I don’t think I’ve heard you and Jason play together.”

Steve can’t help frowning a little. “Well, we’ll have to see…” he obfuscates. Steve can’t put his finger on exactly why he’s bothered by the idea of playing especially for Misha. He should be glad that Misha wants to listen to him because usually Steve feels that Misha doesn’t actually have much interest in music. Instead, Steve can’t help thinking of the homeless guy, can’t help thinking that the music is wasted on Misha when the homeless guy seems to crave it despite himself.

Jensen calls Steve’s cell and they stop on the way to pick up some pizzas. Steve pays knowing that Jason has probably already taken up a collection for it. And then they’re pulling up into Jason’s driveway.

Steve just opens the front door and walks right in, knowing that Jason won’t get up to answer if he knocks. Misha carries the pizzas in after him as they enter to Jason yelling, “Hey, pizzas! And you’re just in time for power hour!”

Taking the pizzas from Misha, Steve grins as he carries them into the living room where Jason and others are sitting around the tv. As he had suspected, there’s money for the pizzas underneath a beer can. Jason, of course, knows a couple people who are actually twenty-one who supply him with alcohol. Jason’s just like that.

Looking around though, it appears the only people participating in power hour are Jason and his newest girlfriend Stephanie who’s leaning on him and giggling like she’s already had too much, Mike, Tom, and Chad who’s currently having a hard time refilling his shot glass with beer. Everyone else seems to just be holding cups of what is probably rum and coke, if he had to guess.

Steve shoots a questioning glance at Misha who shakes his head and then says, “I’ll just have a drink.” Grinning in agreement, Steve leads the way back towards the kitchen just as Jared who’s sitting on the floor between Jensen’s knees gets his hands on the remote.

The kitchen appears to be where all the girls are hiding, including Sandy, Danneel, and Sophia whom Steve also met through Jensen, and a few girls Steve doesn’t know but who are probably friends of Stephanie. Sophia notices Steve entering the kitchen first.

“Come for a drink?” she asks, even though she’s already grabbing two more red plastic cups and filling them with ice. Turns out he was right, it is light rum and Coke tonight.

“Yep, and if you girls want some pizza, you should probably get it now before they eat it all.” The girls he doesn’t know clear out then, though Steve doesn’t know if it’s to get pizza or just because the kitchen is getting crowded.

Or the scathing look that Danneel sends after them.

He decides that’s not something he needs to know. “So how’re things?” he asks no one in particular as he passes the first drink to Misha over Sandy’s head who’s attached herself to Misha’s side.

“Great!” Sandy pipes up as she lets go of Misha with one hand at least so she can reach her drink on the counter. However, Steve doesn’t miss Danneel’s eye roll or how Sophia turns away which is a sure sign that Sandy has hooked up with another loser that will no doubt end badly in the near future. Sandy has the worst taste in guys.

Again Steve decides that discretion is the better part of valour and instead of following up on Sandy’s comment, asks Danneel and Sophia, “So, how’s the clothing business?” They both work in a store at the mall, while Sandy works as a waitress at a pretty good restaurant.

Fortunately they recognize it as the distraction it is. “It’s riveting as always,” Danneel replies. Then with a huff, she takes his arm in hers and says, “Let’s go see if the pizza’s gone yet.”

The pizza isn’t gone which Steve is thankful for particularly because Sophia makes a really strong drink. Stephanie is now on the floor with her friends and Jared is smushed into the same chair as Jensen and Mike somehow got control of the remote. They’re watching some animal discovery show which Steve figures will probably either feature mating habits or disgusting bugs, possibly both, or the host will eat the disgusting bugs.

Misha is being pulled over to the one free armchair so that Sandy can pretty much sit on him. He’s giving her this overly-serious look like he’s trying too hard to convince her that he’s interested in what she’s saying. Then again, maybe he is interested in her ramblings for all Steve knows.

With a shrug at their separation, Steve grabs a couple slices of pizza for Jensen and Jared as well as himself before sitting on the floor with Danneel in front of the chair Jensen and Jared are sitting in.

“So…” Steve starts, knowing that it won’t take much of an opening on his part to get Danneel talking.

“So Sandy’s known this loser named Gerald for a week now, a week and, of course, he’s the love of her life like every other loser. But she wouldn’t attract such losers if she A) didn’t dress and act like such a slut and B) wasn’t such a fag hag.” Her rant finished at least momentarily, Danneel takes a bite of cheese pizza.

Jensen has maneuvered so that now he’s sitting in front of Jared and he leans slightly to pat Danneel on the head patronizingly. “Awww, I thought you liked being my fag hag?”

Danneel scowls good-naturedly as Jared comes to Sandy’s defense, even though there’s not much point. Jared knows as well as Steve that Danneel’s not actually being a bitch, in fact, she likes Sandy. Danneel is just opinionated and sometimes doesn’t have a lot of patience for other people’s stupidity. Steve can understand that particularly because sometimes people’s stupidity is the result of too much babying and he’s glad he can always count on Danneel to tell it to him the way it is.

“She’s not a slut…”

“She just dresses like one,” Danneel cuts in.

Steve doesn’t know Sandy that well, but he can’t help adding his two cents. “I think she’s just desperate for affection, you know.”

“Yeah but she’s not helping herself. Sex isn’t affection and Misha isn’t going to suddenly turn straight,” Danneel adds.

“Well, I hope not,” Steve says with a little laugh.

Danneel smiles then, patting his knee. “Awww she’s stealing your boyfriend, isn’t she? You could go interrupt them.”

Steve glances over at Misha and Sandy again before shaking his head. He’s perfectly fine chatting with his friends and letting Misha do whatever. “Nah, she undoubtedly needs him more than I do right now.”

Danneel snorts, saying, “Well, you must not need him very much because all she needs is a warm body.”

Steve can see Jared gearing up to defend Sandy again, but Jared doesn’t get a chance as their conversation is interrupted by the swish of legs behind Steve’s back. Mike and Tom are heading for the basement door where the ping-pong table is. “Awww, you two need to be alone?” Danneel says in an overly saccharine, overly loud voice.

“Yeah,” Jason chimes in from the couch. “Where’s Jamie?”

“Dude,” Tom says with a squished up face, “we’re not actually attached at the hip.” He pushes Mike down the stairs before the shorter teen can respond to that remark.

That doesn’t, however, prevent Chad from yelling out, “I thought she had a leash around your dick!” The comment makes all the girls groan while the guys try to hide their smirks. Sophia, who is sitting right next to Chad, smacks him, of course.

Will chooses that moment to arrive, and he looks kind of dumbfounded at the situation. Sophia takes pity on him, giving him her seat on the couch and getting him a drink. Steve kinda thinks that she likes how sweet he is, or maybe she just wants to make Chad jealous, or maybe she’s just being a nice hostess for all Steve knows.

He thinks not when she comes back and squishes into the tiny space beside Will and the arm of the couch. Will still looks pretty flustered.

About one hour and one drink later, Misha is suddenly squatting down behind Steve. “You need a drink refill?” Misha asks.

Steve looks down into his cup and finishes off the last of it. “Yep.”

Misha smiles and extends a hand to help him off the floor. But as they make their way behind the couch, they’re no longer headed toward the kitchen but into a guest bedroom.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian is wandering around in the alleys on Saturday night. Normally he wouldn’t, would stick to his hiding places in the park, but he’s saved up a little money and he really needs a drink. He needs to drown all those memories that have been rising up to choke him.

What he’s looking for isn’t hard to find, not around here. Soon he’s rounding a corner to find a group of homeless people, young and old, male and female gathered around for one reason, a cache of alcohol. Most of the people here know one another, but Christian only knows them by their faces not their names since he doesn’t make a habit out of getting to know too many of his fellow homeless persons. But Christian can’t pass for twenty-one and doesn’t know anyone to get him a fake ID, not that it would be believed anyway.

Fortunately, money is money and his pretty face doesn’t hurt, and Christian’s fairly sure that he’s probably fucked one of these guys before. He ought to take the liquor back to the park with him, ought to get out of here before he’s tempted to do something even dumber than buying alcohol with his precious little money, but he can already see the eyes of at least one man on his body. He feels both ashamed and proud under that lustful gaze, and he knows he won’t be able to say no once the guy makes a move.

When he wraps his lips around the bottle to take that first burning sip, Christian knows it won’t be long now.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Misha’s hands are already grasping Steve’s waist as they enter the bedroom and Steve can’t contain his giggle. This is what he’s been waiting all night for, hell, days for and Steve knows exactly how he wants this to go.

But Misha’s hands are warm and sweaty on his cheeks, stroking his unruly hair back from his face to reach his lips. Misha’s not wasting time, his tongue immediately diving into Steve’s giggling mouth, licking in again and again in a parody of sex.

Not that they’re about to have sex in Jason’s guest bedroom, Steve’s not quite that desperate to take the plunge. It does goad Steve into maneuvering them around so that Misha’s back is against a wall, any wall. Misha seems to just wrap his long body entirely around Steve, but he gets the message when Steve squeezes his hands between them to get to Misha’s belt.

Then Misha’s hands drop to squeeze Steve’s biceps as Steve undoes the belt and then the button and finally lowers the zipper. Steve’s eyes dart up to see his boyfriend’s face, blue eyes gone wide in anticipation of what they both know is coming. The jeans fall some under the weight of the belt and Misha shimmies to get them to fall farther down his thighs, but Steve is already cupping Misha’s erection through his baby blue boxers, the cotton sliding roughly over sensitive skin making Misha groan.

Carefully, Steve stretches the waistband of the boxers to fit over the other teen’s cock before he slides down to his knees, taking the boxers and jeans with him to the ground. He grips Misha’s cock with his right hand, thumb swirling over the precum at the tip as Misha jerks his hips. Steve licks once, twice over the head before he’s taking it in his mouth and slowly sliding his lips down only a little before coming back up.

Steve had never imagined how hot this would be to do, the feel of silky skin on his tongue, the feel of Misha’s sac in his other hand, the smell of Misha’s arousal, the feel of a gentle hand in his hair, the sound of Misha above him. He’s not all that good, can’t fit in much more than the head and his jaw soon gets tired but he’s determined to finish.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Soon the man is leading Christian by the hand farther back into the alleyway, enticing him with more alcohol like Christian could say no particularly after the alcohol he’s already consumed. He’s feeling warm and reckless, pleased when the man stops and leans against a wall, cupping Christian’s cheek, telling him, “God, you’re pretty.”

Flushed with praise, he goes willingly when the hand turns to a pressure on his shoulder. “Good. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

The man’s hand is large and rough, unyielding as it scrabbles in Christian’s short hair before landing on the back of his neck. But Christian doesn’t need the force either; he’s only too willing to open his mouth for the cock that invades it, only too willing to soak up the praise that follows.

“God, that’s…that’s g-great, boy. Fuck, your mouth, mmm, just like t-that,” the man pants as Christian’s mouth doesn’t falter even as he unzips his own jeans to take out his hard cock, stroking it in time with the hard thrusts down his throat.

The man cums before he does, but Christian knows what to do, knows to swallow it all before his hand is speeding up on his own cock, stripping it faster until he’s spilling onto the brick wall and on the wrapper for a bag of Cheetos.

The large rough hand is still on him, ruffling his hair like he’s a beloved pet and with the return of blood to his brain Christian’s shame returns as well. He wipes his hand on his already filthy jeans before he stands, taking the can of beer from the man’s hand. He finishes it before he even makes it out of the alley on his way back to the park.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve has a tough time opening his own jeans while keeping up his rhythm, so he finishes Misha with his cock barely out of his fly. Misha’s orgasm catches him unaware too and he chokes on the bitterness of it before he thinks to spit into his now empty cup. But Misha is right there, dropping to his knees beside Steve even with his pants still around his ankles.

Misha’s tongue is in his mouth again and Misha’s hand is with his own on his cock and it’s not long after that that Steve is cumming over their conjoined hands.

Just in time for there to be a fist banging on the door as Jason shouts, “You better not be fucking in there.” Steve giggles again, leaning his face into Misha’s shoulder.

They clean up in the guest bathroom and then head back out to the living room. Half the guests are gone, but Jensen is squished between the back of the couch and his giant boyfriend. Steve and Misha end up making a sort of nest of cushions and blankets on the floor, and they fall asleep with Steve’s face on Misha’s shoulder while Misha cuddles Steve like he’s Misha’s own life-size teddy bear.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve wakes up the next morning to the still obnoxious sound of Jason’s girlfriend giggling again in the kitchen. He didn’t drink enough the night before to have a headache, but his mouth tastes like something died in it and he’s feeling pretty sweaty squished up against another person like this. But despite all of that, he’s feeling pretty awesome.

Misha’s waking up too, and they smile sweet and awkward at each other as they both try to sit up without crushing the other. Jensen and Jared are still asleep as they make trips to the bathroom and say goodbyes to Jason and his mussed-looking girlfriend. The trip to drop Misha back at his house is quiet again, but it’s less awkward because they’re both tired.

It’s still morning when Steve gets back to his own house and so he says hello to his parents, has a shower and goes back to bed for a while. It seems only moments later that his mom is calling him to lunch with a smile that’s warm and knowing. Steve really wishes she would stop that. Couldn’t she just pretend to be oblivious like most parents?

It isn’t until later that thoughts of the homeless guy filter into his Misha-and-sex-soaked brain, when he’s picking up his guitar and car keys. He hesitates for a moment, sobering at the thought of how every meeting was like a test, a trial in a gauntlet. Maybe he’s just being stubborn to keep trying, but maybe it’s the vulnerability that is just barely visible behind the bravado. Either way he heads out the door without further thought.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian has picked out the perfect spot. The hippie always sits in the shade of the same tree, good grass, roots to lean on, so Christian has chosen the worst place to sit that’s still in listening distance of that tree. He’s sitting on rocks and pine needles, but he doesn’t think that the hippie will see him.

Except that the hippie doesn’t head immediately for his favorite tree and instead, heads straight for where Christian is sitting, hiding. He looks away with a scowl as the other teen approaches to stand over him.

“Hey,” the hippie says before he’s looking down and trying to find a place to sit that’s not full of rocks and pine needles.

Steve sits thinking that the guy’s scowl is edging dangerously close to a pout before the guy speaks. “This isn’t a very comfortable place to sit. You should go back to where you normally play.”

Steve smiles to know that he’s getting to the other teen. “Nah, if this is where you want to sit…I’m fine here.”

Godammit Christian thinks. They can either sit here and both be uncomfortable or move, but it seems as if the hippie isn’t going to leave him alone. “Fine,” he growls as he gets up.

Christian doesn’t look back as he leads the way to the hippie’s usual spot since he’s certain the hippie’s wearing a smug expression. He waits to sit, though, until the other teen has taken his usual spot against the tree.

Steve knows that the guy was trying to hide from him but couldn’t resist showing up. He also notices that the guy sits as far away from him as possible while still being in the shade, but he doesn’t comment. He’s still amazed the guy hasn’t just run away yet, particularly since the guy is sitting with his arms around his knees like he’s protecting himself despite the belligerent expression on his pretty face.

Busying himself with tuning his guitar, Steve tries to sound as casual as possible when he asks, “So what’s your name?”

He doesn’t have to look up to see the scowl is back on those full lips. He can hear it when the guy answers, “Why do you care? We’re not friends.”

The answer stings a little because that’s exactly where Steve is trying to get to with this guy, but he only shrugs, replying, “It’s just so that I don’t have to say, ‘hey you’.”

The guy fidgets a minute, obviously uncomfortable with revealing that information, but eventually he answers, “Christian.”

“Well, Chris…”

“Christian,” the guy corrects in a harsh tone.

Wow, Steve thinks. “What? Chris is too pedestrian for you?”

This, Christian thinks, this is exactly why he doesn’t talk to people, doesn’t make friends. He’s not about to explain that Chris reminds him of a husky, deep voice, a coercive, affectionate tone…

Steve thinks that maybe the name thing is more than just the guy being asinine when Christian turns away, leaning his cheek on one of his knees as his arms tighten seemingly unconsciously.

“Well, I’m Steve, Steven, Stevie, I’ll answer to any of them…”

“Hippie?” Christian asks a little spunk back in his voice.

Steve frowns despite himself, but he’s determined not to let this guy piss him off today. “Sure,” he says. Why not, he thinks.

“Any requests?” he asks, but Christian just gives a quick shake of the head as he’s busying himself with plucking strands of grass. Steve only has to think a minute before he begins “Norwegian Wood” by the Beatles.

It’s a song that he knows like the back of his hand, chosen because Steve is more interested in watching Christian who seems to have relaxed marginally at the first notes, probably thankful to have the conversation come to an end. In fact, then Christian is moving to lie down on his back in the sunshine, which coincidentally is even further from where Steve is sitting.

And suddenly Steve can’t help his eyes from roving over the other teen’s form. Christian’s lying with his knees bent and swaying a little, and the arm nearest to Steve is bent underneath Christian’s head which causes his t-shirt to come up enough to show a sliver of tanned stomach. The guy is even more beautiful close enough, particularly his face which is turned toward Steve and is now relaxed as Christian rests his cheek on his own bicep.

Long dark lashes lift minutely and Steve flicks his eyes away, just in time to see that he’s not the only one admiring the way Christian looks in the sunlight. A guy in his early twenties probably, old enough to know better, has slowed his pace beside them. Steve sees the moment that Christian notices the attention as Christian’s lips and thighs part. The guy takes one step forward before he notices Steve glaring at him warningly.

Christian doesn’t seem the least bit disappointed to see the guy go though, as one leg simply drops to the ground and he licks plump lips. Steve thinks that even as deliberately seductive as Christian’s move was, it was also seemingly unconscious, as if it were simply how Christian had learned to react to older men. He wonders whether Christian learned it on the streets or whether that’s why Christian is on the streets.

Steve swallows hard then, fucks up a couple of chords which draws a speculative look from Christian. He decides then to play something that requires a little more concentration, something he wrote himself a little while back.

Christian’s eyes though half-lidded stay on Steve while he begins the new song. The hippie seems completely entranced by the music with his head bowed a little so that some of the front pieces of blonde waves fall forward. He’s concentrating but seemingly not on remembering the chords but on attempting to stroke more than notes from the strings and he’s got this adorable little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Steve is the kind of guy that Christian doesn’t deserve to touch, barely deserves to look at. Christian knows he’s been nothing but an asshole, has actually been trying to be obnoxious and rude, but this guy just takes his shit in stride. The hippie blows up but doesn’t blow Christian off. Christian just doesn’t get it.

Steve begins to softly sing the words to “I’ve Learned to Love”. He can feel Christian’s blue eyes on him though he doesn’t look up, can feel the intensity of that gaze. Without having to ask, Steve knows that Christian is a musician, knows that Christian loves the music as much as Jason, as much as Steve himself.

Christian rolls to face Steve more as the song draws to a close. “Did you write that?” he asks with a frown.

“Yeah,” Steve answers suddenly self-conscious to have played one of his own songs in front of the other teen.

The choke in Christian’s voice is barely detectable as Christian says, “It was beautiful, really great.” He’s being honest again but he just can’t help himself, because it was good. It was a good in a way that makes Christian ache for things he can’t have, things he gave up.

Steve’s smile is beautiful and wide as he ducks his head, flushing under the simple but meaningful praise. “Do you play?”

Christian frowns and looks away again, in that uncomfortable way that Steve is beginning to recognize when the homeless teen doesn’t want to answer. “No,” Christian says.

Steve frowns then. He can’t quite believe it, can’t reconcile Christian’s intense passion for the music with a person who can’t play. But then again, Steve realizes that he didn’t ask if Christian could. Steve is becoming aware that it’s all the little things, the things left unsaid that matter when it comes to this guy. For some reason, that just makes Steve all the more determined to get to know him, to be worthy of this guy’s trust.

Now it’s Christian who can feel the intensity of blue eyes on him. The comfort of playing the guitar is just one of many things he left behind two years ago, one of the many comforts that he doesn’t deserve. Now he’s not sure what would come out if he picked up the instrument, opened his mouth to sing. He can’t even sing to himself nowadays because most of the time he’s hiding, trying to be quiet.

For once, Steve decides not to push, doesn’t want to push Christian away when they’re finally on speaking terms. He simply moves into another song, “Dixie on My Mind” by Hank Williams, Jr.

Christian obviously knows the song, that’s clear to Steve as he watches sneaker clad feet moving to the rhythm. Steve doesn’t even think before he’s saying, “Come on, sing along.”

Christian’s eyes widen before he’s scowling again. “No.” He certainly doesn’t want an audience if he were to ever sing again, and he doesn’t want to sing in front of this guy. He’s already feeling too exposed in front of the hippie because he can’t just walk away. In some ridiculous way, he wants Steve to like him which means that Steve can’t know him.

“Come on. Nobody here cares if you can’t carry a tune…” Steve is smiling as he attempts to cajole the other teen into joining in, having a little fun, but he stops as Christian abruptly sits up like he’s going to bolt. Ceasing the motion of his fingers, Steve backpedals, “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll stop asking.”

He watches the muscles of Christian’s jaw work for a breath-stealing moment, before Steve picks the song back up, hoping that the music will be more of an enticement than his words. It seems to work as Christian stays though he continues to sit up instead of lying back down.

Steve kinda feels like an organ grinder’s monkey for a minute as he tries to cater to his small audience’s whims. It’s only that flash of vulnerability hidden by defensiveness that keeps Steve seated, that calms him with the insight that this teen isn’t just fucking with him.

Seamlessly, Steve moves into the Marshall Tucker Band’s “Fire on the Mountain” next. He doesn’t want to give Christian a moment of peace in which to run away. His curiosity aches within him, questions decay on his tongue, foul and bitter. He wants to know everything about this guy, he realizes. He doesn’t know if it’s because Christian is beautiful or wounded or mysterious or intense or tough and rough-edged. Maybe it’s Steve’s own bleeding heart and knack for picking up strays or his curiosity or his own devotion to the music. It’s probably everything together.

And suddenly he can’t just sit there strumming the guitar and his mouth opens again though he’ll probably regret it. “Where are you from? Originally, I mean, I can tell that accent didn’t come from around here.”

Hot blue eyes flash a look at him before Christian is looking away as if he doesn’t deign to answer. But Steve knows by the quicksilver shifting of Christian’s jaw again that there’s a reason Christian doesn’t want to answer that specific question.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell social services or something. Wouldn’t be much to go on anyway.”

Christian’s eyes drop to his own knees, he wrings his hands for a moment as if unconsciously trying to wipe something off of them. “Oklahoma,” he finally speaks in a rough voice. “I’m from Oklahoma.”

He darts his eyes up long enough to see that Steve is smiling at the admission, but he can’t tell yet whether it was a mistake. This guy’s peacefulness and quiet warmth and goddamn stubbornness have just worn Christian down again.

He almost said Texas. It’s the state that he was born in, the state that most of his memories of his father take place in, but it felt like a lie. And, for whatever reason, he can’t seem to lie to this hippie kid, can only obfuscate and conceal.

It’s Oklahoma where he did most of his growing up, where the major events of his life occurred, where his father died and he met Jeff and started wrestling. Oklahoma is where his father’s family is from, where Christian’s heritage lies, his Cherokee and rural Midwestern roots. He runs a hand through his short hair absently. He used to think of growing it long, of braiding it maybe, but now he keeps it short for cleanliness. He used to wear jewelry, turquoise and silver necklaces, leather bracelets, used to think of getting his ears pierced, a tattoo when he turned eighteen…

Now he just exists, just survives, day to day, month to month, for two years. He looks just like every other homeless kid out here, is just like every other homeless kid, pathetic and desperate and desolate, mean and mangy.

He ducks his head, covers by rubbing his cheek against the shoulder of his t-shirt, wringing his hands again futilely and instinctively. He doesn’t know what Steve thinks of his weird behavior, can’t imagine what Steve sees that keeps the hippie coming back.

Christian looks up when the music stops to see Steve’s sheepish smile. Steve just noticed that he’d been there an hour, the usual amount of time he spends playing in the park on Sundays, and he promised his mom he’d be back to help clean out a closet or something.

“I have to go,” he says in explanation. “I promised to help my mom…” Steve doesn’t know whether he should have avoided mentioning his family when Christian is already looking away as if he’s totally uninterested in what Steve does.

And it’s frustrating, and annoying, and Steve doesn’t want to wait a whole week to see Christian again. It’s stupid, he knows, and he’s pushing again, but he just can’t help trying.

“What are you doing Tuesday afternoon?” he asks.

Christian looks at him like he’s stupid and the sentiment may be accurate so Steve explains. “I don’t have to go to work til five that day and I thought we could meet again at like two…”

Steve’s brain furiously works for any reason that they should meet again, for anything that the two of them could do together, that Christian would agree to. “I’m working on a new song,” he blurts out. “It’s not…it wasn’t ready to be played today, but I thought on Tuesday…I could try it and maybe, you’d, ya know, want to hear it?” God, he knows he sounds like a moron.

Christian is looking at him sideways, out of the corner of his eye and through a fringe of lashes, the gaze assessing, considering. Christian knows he shouldn’t say yes. It’s bad enough that they practically have a standing Sunday date, there’s no reason, no excuse to meet the kid another time.

But he wants to, and it’s exactly what Christian has been afraid of, because he’s been there before. He’s known longing like this, wanting to be seen, to be known and appreciated and cared about, craved affection and praise and attention.

But then again, what exactly is he protecting, Christian asks himself. If Steve wants him, the hippie can skip all these games. Getting fucked again isn’t really going to change things for Christian. He isn’t going to be any worse off as long as Steve doesn’t call the cops, and if Steve keeps playing…well, then Christian could actually get something out of this deal.

He tries not to give any of those emotions away as he gruffly says, “Sure. Ain’t like I got anything better to do.” Then Christian stands, immediately walking back towards his usual section of the park without a look back. He wants to be the one to leave this time, no matter how childish it is.

But despite Christian’s abrupt exit, Steve’s smiling victoriously as he lays his guitar in its case.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian really doesn’t have much to do during the days. The best dumpster diving takes place outside restaurants at night, so mostly during the days he maybe sits on a busy street, hoping that somebody will think him pitiful enough to give him some change. And he’s normally pretty tired so he doesn’t wander far afield usually, but Monday finds him out walking around. He keeps his eyes mostly down, not wanting to meet people’s stares at him for being around normal people.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s been thinking about Steve, thinking about meeting the hippie tomorrow and how flustered Steve seemed when he asked. Hell, Christian figures the hippie has got to be a virgin the way he’s been sniffing around like he doesn’t know that he could just ask and Christian would spread his legs. Christian tries not to get his hopes up, tries not to imagine that Steve really wants his opinion on the song.

Looking up, Christian is just in time to see people coming out of the karate studio up ahead. The sign says Tang So Do or something like that, but Christian is more interested in watching the little brunette boy coming out after a woman who has to be his mom. The boy is wearing the white uniform and looking up in adoration at the karate master whose hand is on the boy’s back as he speaks over the boy’s head to the mother while holding open the glass door.

They’re all smiling but Christian finds himself wondering what emotions are behind those smiles, what needs, what secrets, what motivation the instructor has for that affectionate touch to the boy.

** Chris is still nine years old with shaggy hair and big blue eyes, and he’s spent the last two weeks attending wrestling practice. It’s been awesome. He’s pushed himself on each and every thing that’s been asked of him. He’s run faster than the other boys, done more push-ups and crunches, practiced the moves while the other boys were getting water. He wants to show Mr. Morgan, Jeff, that he deserves this, that he’s worth Jeff’s time and attention.

Most days he also attends varsity practice sitting beside Jeff if his momma can’t pick him up after Middle School practice. But tonight his momma had called to say she couldn’t pick him up after varsity practice either. Jeff could have just dropped him off at home, he’s spent tons of time at home either alone or with Jenny, but Jeff insisted on feeding Chris dinner at his house.

Now Chris is sitting on Jeff’s couch drinking his Coke after finishing his fast food hamburger and fries. Michael Weatherly is also there on the couch with him. Michael’s a sophomore and probably the best on the wrestling team at the moment, and they’re watching “Die Hard”.

Chris watches as Jeff affectionately ruffles Michael’s hair as the man takes their plates into the kitchen. For two weeks, he’s also been watching them, jealous of their relationship. He wants to be as good as Michael, wants Jeff to be as proud of him, wants Jeff to touch him with as much affection.

He puts his cup down on the coffee table as Jeff comes back in the room, but the man doesn’t sit back in his recliner. Instead, Jeff sits down on the coffee table facing the two boys on the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris can see Michael straightening up against the couch cushion. Chris sits up more himself hoping that Jeff will know he’s paying attention.

Jeff smiles at his eagerness reaching out a hand to affectionately pet Chris’s face, running a thumb over Chris’s lips that makes Chris feel weird like Jeff shouldn’t have done it. But then Jeff says, “Chris, I think you’re very special and you’ve got real potential for wrestling just like Michael here. You know I started training Michael in Middle School.”

Jeff turns his head then to smile at Michael. “I take care of him and he takes care of me.” Chris watches in confusion as Michael nods at that and then Michael is leaning forward, reaching a hand inside the v of Jeff’s legs.

Christian doesn’t understand what’s going on even as Michael is unbuttoning and then unzipping the Jeff’s khakis, taking out Jeff’s penis right in front of where Chris is sitting. Jeff’s penis is thick and red, jutting out from the man’s crotch. It seems menacing to Chris, threatening, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared and confused as Jeff’s huge hands reach toward Chris’s own pants.

Chris’s breath leaves him abruptly in whimpering wail as the hands make contact, hot as they pull his shorts and underwear down to Chris’s bony knees. His legs make an aborted attempted to pull into his body, to shield himself. Jeff makes a shushing noise as he takes Chris’s small limp penis in his huge, hot hands, saying, “I just want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good,” as he’s pulling and stroking. Chris is shaking, gripping the couch cushions under him with a white-knuckled grip, and there’s a sinking, cramping feeling in his belly.

A large hand covers his own small one and Chris jerks, looks over to find it’s Michael rubbing his thumb over Chris’s knuckles. “Shhh,” Michael whispers. “It gets better, just relax.” But Chris can’t relax because his penis is stiffening, feeling like it does sometimes when he plays with it, but his mama always says not to…

Chris doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jeff’s wiping a calloused thumb over his wet cheek. Big blue eyes look into Jeff’s dark ones pleadingly, but Jeff just kisses his forehead, says, “You’re beautiful. My beautiful, special boy and I’m gonna take care of you just like I do Michael. Just relax and be a good boy…”**

Christian’s running back towards the park before he even registers having moved his feet.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

This Monday Steve is working the afternoon shift at the record store and it’s just as dead as every other Monday. Will has actually taken to reading the latest issue of Time magazine, and Steve is mostly just bored out of his skull. At least until his phone rings.

“Hey,” Steve answers, knowing it’s Misha and slightly embarrassed at how his voice immediately became soft and intimate.

“Hey. You at work?”

“Yeah, so I’m guessing you’re not,” Steve chuckles a little thinking how amazing it is that their schedules are exactly opposite like this.

“Yeah,” Misha draws the word out, making Steve think that the other teen is smiling. “I just got off.”

“Any chance you’re stopping by to see me today?”

“Uhh, sorry, I can’t today. But…I have the early morning shift on Wednesday.”

The pout that had only begun to form on Steve’s face transforms into a smile. He had told Misha his work schedule previously and he doesn’t work until the evening on Wednesday. It means they’re both free in the middle of the day.

“So you want to do something? Maybe go to lunch somewhere?”

Misha laughs low and affectionate. “That’s what I was thinking. We could go to the Venus Pie Pizzeria.”

Steve should have figured that Misha would choose that place. Misha loves it because it’s just as quirky as he is. “Sure. Do you need a ride or…?”

“I can be there at say...one? But I’d need a ride home.”

“One is good, and I can definitely give you a ride home before I have to be at the store.”

“Cool, cool. Well, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“You can’t entertain me for a few more minutes? It’s been really slow today.”

“It’s slow every Monday, unlike the coffeeshop that’s busy, well, everyday. Sorry, but I have to go help my dad.”

“Ok,” Steve answers making sure that his exaggerated pout can be heard in his voice.

“Bye.”

Steve sighs as he presses the red button to hang up. Man, this sucks, he thinks.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Tuesday, Christian’s fidgety like he knows he shouldn’t be. It’s just that he doesn’t have anything else to break up the monotony of his days, he tells himself even though he knows that it’s more than that. He knows that he’s getting too involved.

He makes sure that he eats something so he won’t be so tired since he knows that the hippie will want to talk. And Christian doesn’t know what else Steve will want to do, but he wants to be ready. He even puts on clean clothes. Well, he puts on clothes that are as clean as he can make them in the park’s public bathroom with handsoap. And really that should have been a clue that this is a huge mistake.

Still he manages to wait until 2 to make his way down to where he knows Steve will be. As he walks over there though, Steve is not sitting. In fact, he’s still got his guitar case on his back.

Steve had worked that whole morning to get the song ready to be heard by Christian, so his face breaks out in a relieved smile as the homeless teen gets close. “Hey,” Steve says. “Thought I was gonna have to go find you.”

Christian’s stomach absolutely does not give a nervous flutter at the hippie’s words, or at least that’s what he tells himself. As they sit, both in the shade this time, Christian can’t help but notice that this time Steve is wearing a black tank top that hugs the other teen’s body in a decidedly distracting way. He thinks that maybe they’ll be doing that something else after all.

But the outline of Steve’s pecs isn’t all that the tank exposes. Christian also notices that Steve has a tattoo on the outside of his right shoulder.

The direction of Christian’s gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve who pauses in the middle of opening his guitar case. “You like it?” he asks.

Christian’s eyes jerk away from the mark on pale perfect skin guiltily, looking at the grass as if that’s where he’s been looking the whole time. “What?” he asks, because he’s pretty sure Steve’s not asking about the song since the guitar hasn’t even left its case yet.

“My tattoo,” Steve explains with a laugh. He shifts a little so that his shoulder is pointing more towards Christian and contorts himself a little so he can look down at it at the same time. “It’s a nautical star.”

Christian’s brows contract in confusion but he doesn’t ask. So Steve explains anyway. “It represents finding your direction in life, like how sailors used the North Star to navigate.”

“I didn’t think that you were eighteen?” Christian blurts out. He’s really trying not to ask questions, trying not to care about this kid and his tattoo and his perfect fucking life.

Steve laughs again even though he can tell that Christian feels uncomfortable asking questions, prying into his life. “I’m not. I’ll be seventeen in August, but my mom signed the waiver to let me get it after I came out.”

“You’re gay?” Christian asks softly, with real interest.

“Yeah,” Steve says firmly, making eye contact. He’s certainly not going to be ashamed of the fact now, and he’s pretty certain that Christian is gay too. It could even be the explanation for why Christian is on the streets.

Steve watches as Christian’s eyes drop back to the grass that his hands are playing with, as Christian nods once slowly. He’s not overly surprised that Christian didn’t proclaim his own homosexuality just because Steve did, nor is he surprised that his statement seems to have gotten Christian thinking.

And Christian is thinking, thinking about his sexuality as he really hasn’t for the last two years. He hasn’t thought about his sexuality because his sex life hasn’t really been a choice, it just sort of happens. He has slept with girls before, ok two girls before leaving Oklahoma, but nowadays it doesn’t even feel like an issue. Besides it’s not as if anyone he’d want to actually date would want to date him, would want to be with him longer than the time it takes to get off.

Christian is also thinking that it’s weird that Steve is being so open with him, some guy Steve barely knows. He almost misses the hippie asking him a question. “Have you ever thought of getting a tattoo?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He replies, noncommittally.

“So what kinda thing have you thought about getting?”

Christian shrugs again, but he can feel Steve waiting for an answer, an honest answer. And for some reason, he feels compelled to give one because it seems like Steve honestly cares. “Like a Cherokee design, maybe.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, genuinely interested. “Do you have Cherokee heritage or…?”

“Yeah,” Christian says, becoming slightly more relaxed at Steve’s interest. But still it’s like he doesn’t know how much to say, doesn’t really know how to act in a normal social situation if he’s not trying to be an asshole.

But it doesn’t seem to bother Steve who has gotten used to prompting the other teen. “So like a dream-catcher or something?”

Christian can’t help his surprised laugh, but he ducks his eyes away as Steve smiles at him in response. “Dream-catchers aren’t Cherokee. And the peace-wheel and pow-wows are from plains Indians.”

“Oh,” Steve says still smiling because Christian wasn’t being malicious or snide in laughing but actually telling Steve something, something about Christian himself. “So what would you get?”

And even though he’s embarrassed that Steve will think it’s stupid, Christian can’t help actually telling Steve, can’t resist Steve’s attention. “I was thinking about an animal scene. My great-grandfather was in wolf clan for warriors so I was thinking maybe a wolf howling at the moon…and maybe an eagle too.”

Christian shrugs again like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t mean anything even though Steve knows that this is the most intimate thing that Christian has said so far. And it is important. “So the tattoo would remind you of your family, of where you came from?”

Christian nods a little. His family, his heritage is important to him and his self-imposed exile pains him. He remembers hearing about how the Cherokee tribes would gather each morning at the nearest river or stream. They would enter the water and pray to the seven directions, the four cardinal points, the sky, the earth, and the center or spirit. And the water would wash away whatever separated a person from his family and community and the Creator. Now Christian only wishes it would be that easy that burned bridges could be washed away like that.

“And to remind me of what’s important,” Christian says. “It’s not getting ahead at your job or having stuff, but the Cherokee are about harmony and balance, work and play, war and peace, nature and us. Everybody was equal and everybody had a place and a duty,” Christian breaks off knowing that he does sound stupid now, pretending to be wise and shit when there’s no balance in his life now. He has no place or duty and he’s in no danger of him being caught up in materialism when he doesn’t have anything.

Steve is thinking that he likes how Christian describes it, not like an interesting concept but like the real beliefs of a people that exist. He was born too late to be a hippie, but he is certainly fascinated with the ideals of peace and harmony. He’s thinking that he’d like to know more when Christian redirects, “So what about this song?”

“Yeah, ok,” Steve says, accepting the change in direction for Christian’s benefit. He gets out the guitar and sets about tuning it, but he still thinks a moment about what he knows about Cherokee history. The only thing that he remembers is the Trail of Tears, that the Cherokee ended up in Oklahoma because of a forced migration and he has to wonder again if Christian’s own migration from his home was forced.

But he’s not going to push, so he simply balances the guitar on his lap and opens his notebook to his newest song, “Ballad of a Denim Boy and Grey Girl”. “So here’s the tune…” he says as he begins to play, concentrating for a moment because the song is new. “Actually, I started with this lick,” he plays, talking about the song as he would with Jason or Jensen.

Steve begins the song again, this time softly singing the lyrics as well. He gets to the second verse and then stops because the line there still doesn’t feel right. “Ugh, I just…here, look. This line in the second verse just doesn’t sound right, do you…?”

He turns the notebook around so that Christian can see it only just catching the other teen’s surprised expression before Christian is schooling his features into blankness and looking down at the paper. Christian can’t believe that Steve is actually asking him how to fix the song. Steve barely knows him and has no reason to believe that Christian knows anything about music.

And Christian knows that he should probably just push the paper back at the hippie, but his fingers are practically itching now, wanting to reach for the pencil, for the guitar, wanting to…Practically without meaning to, Christian’s eyes are looking over the notes and the lyrics. “How about if you change ‘the moon is almost gone’ to ‘the sky is almost blue’ and then change these words…”

Christian’s heart is in his throat as Steve turns the paper back around, reading over the change he’s suggested. “That’s,” Steve plays the lick again, still looking at the paper and thinking. “Yeah, I think…”

Steve doesn’t bother getting out a full sentence, simply begins with the chorus and then plays and sings the second verse again. “God, yeah, that’s it, man. You totally fixed it.” He’s already starting the song over.

But Christian is mentally stomping on the happiness that the praise engenders. He knows exactly where this road leads and it doesn’t matter how nice Steve is, how laid-back or funny or interesting or sincere, how goddamn caring. Christian can’t start caring about anyone else’s opinion, can’t become dependent on anyone else like before, because he’ll only be hurt in the end. Because Christian can’t forget that he’s just a homeless charity case, a fucked up kid better at fucking than writing songs. If Steve knew anything about him…

“So how’s the song?” Steve asks, knowing nothing of Christian’s inner turmoil.

“It’s good, yeah.”

Steve can easily read that something has changed and he doubts it has anything to do with whether or not his song is good. So he begins Eric Clapton’s “I Shot the Sheriff”, hoping to lift the mood again.

But though Steve can tell that Christian knows and is enjoying the song, it doesn’t help whatever’s bringing Christian down. And he now knows that Christian has to have been a musician which means that presumably at one point, Christian had access to an instrument probably a guitar. That doesn’t exactly clear up the mystery of the guy but Steve does know a helluva lot more about Christian now than last Sunday.

So he plays a couple more songs before he has to pack up and leave in order to be at work by five. Christian looks just dejected as he closes the guitar case, and Steve wants to stay, wants to say something, to comfort the guy someway, somehow. But Christian is already turning away from him, curling into the tree trunk and running thin fingers through the blades of grass again. Steve just leaves then, feeling like his comfort wouldn’t be accepted and certainly isn’t expected.

Christian stays there a while, watching as the sky darkens and the people begin to leave the park, before he makes his own way back to the secluded section. On the way though, Liz and Daniel find him.

“Chris, Chris,” they chorus. They push each other as they jostle for position, but Christian steps in, putting his arm around Liz before she starts screaming or crying. “Can we go to the playground?” she asks instead.

Christian hesitates before answering. He knows that Mary doesn’t take them to the park because she’s too afraid that she or the kids will be recognized. She’s been so terrorized that she thinks her bastard husband has spies everywhere and who’s to say he doesn’t.

But he’s taken them before, at night. He figures that even though LA is never pitch-black the cover of darkness is pretty safe, and if their father or the cops are there, he can be a distraction while the kids scamper into the bushes. So he says yes.

“Ok, fine. C’mon, but remember to stay near me or we won’t ever go again,” Christian says. He knows his harsh words aren’t heard, though. The kids stopped listening as soon as Christian agreed.

Liz is still young enough that she wants a piggy back ride to the playground and that’s the real reason that Christian agreed. Because they’re kids. They’re two kids who got dealt a shitty card in life, but they deserve to be kids and play on the playground even if they have to do it in the middle of the night.

Daniel runs immediately toward the monkey bars, but Liz, of course, wants to be pushed on the swings. It’s a mindless activity to push her over and over even as she demands to be pushed higher, and he’s been in a contemplative mood since seeing Steve that afternoon, or really ever since meeting the hippie. So he’s not surprised that watching the brunette boy crawling around reminds him of himself at that age.

** Chris is nine years old and he’s been on the wrestling team a month now, a month that Jeff has been proudly patting him on the back and swiping an affectionate hand through his shaggy hair, that Jeff has been touching him down there.

It’s Saturday and his plan for the day is to watch morning cartoons with the sound turned low since his momma is still sleeping from a late shift at the diner. He isn’t expecting the knock on the door to be Jeff.

Chris’s throat constricts at the thought of Jeff being there, at the thought that Jeff is going to want to touch him some more, but Jeff just asks if he has a baseball glove. Chris hasn’t touched his baseball stuff since his Dad died, it’s just been sitting on the shelf, but Jeff takes him to the park to throw a ball around.

They throw the ball back and forth, the rhythm soothing in its familiarity. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jeff is hurrying over with a concerned look on his face. When Jeff swings Chris up into his arms, Chris really lets loose, sobbing into Jeff’s shirt for the Dad he lost, the family he lost. Jeff comforts him with soothing words and gentle hands, comforts him the way that Chris has been aching for since his momma first got that phone call.

Jeff fills in all those gaps in Chris’s life. Jeff encourages Chris and asks about his day, plays with him and teaches him, comforts him. Jeff pays attention to him like no one seems to do anymore.**

“Chris, Chris!”

Christian opens eyes he doesn’t remember clenching shut to find that he’s stopped pushing Liz and that Daniel is calling him over. Breathing in a long, noisy breath, Christian wipes a shaking hand over his face before stopping Liz’s swing. Then they head over to the boy while Christian tries to make his smile believable.

It’s not as if this is anything new, like Christian doesn’t see Jeff’s face every time he looks around, feels Jeff’s hands on him every time he fucks, hears Jeff’s voice in his ear. He’s spent the last two years trying not to think of Jeff, but he figures that it would take two lifetimes to forget. Sometimes he still wants Jeff, still wants Jeff’s comfort, Jeff’s attention, and that makes him feel even worse.

But these kids don’t have anything to do with that, don’t deserve to have that darken their fun particularly since he’s the only one out here for them to play with besides each other.

“Hey, Chris, watch!” Daniel cries, just loud enough for Christian to consider telling the boy to keep his voice down but doesn’t. He watches as the boy jumps to grab the monkey bars then swings his legs over a bar and lets go with his hands. Christian sticks an arm out as Daniel begins to swing until the boys hand reach a bar behind him, but Daniel doesn’t catch the bar the first time and Christian’s hands are already making contact.

“Whoa there, sport. I do not want to explain to your mama how you broke your neck.” Meanwhile Liz has begun jumping up and down, poking him with her pointed little fingers, “Chris, lift me up. Chris…”  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wednesday, Steve is still excited about his new song. He can’t wait to play it for Jensen and Jason.

He’s also excited about his date with Misha. They didn’t exactly do a lot of talking at the party and Steve feels like it’s been forever since they were able to just hang out.

Steve is parking his car when he gets a text message from Misha, Got us a table in back left from the door. Smiling at the thoughtfulness, Steve pulls open the swinging door and tells the hostess that he’s meeting someone.

As he nears their table, he considers giving Misha a kiss in greeting, even on the cheek, but he’s not quite that comfortable yet. So he settles for a big smile and grasping Misha’s hand that’s lying on top of the table.

“Hey, how was the morning shift?” Steve first asks.

Misha shifts in his chair a minute but doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand. “It was fine. Busy as always. Katie really needed to switch shifts so that’s how I got off for lunch with you.”

“Lucky for me,” Steve says sappily and Misha smiles back at him.

“Yeah, though it’s too bad you have to go into work later.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

They order two Cokes and a large pizza to share. Steve lets Misha pick the toppings even though he doesn’t really like banana peppers, he figures he can just pick them off.

“So my dad and I started making this new dining table,” Misha begins. Steve tries to follow, really he does, but he has no idea about different styles of tables or different types of tools to make tables. But he knows that Misha and his Dad love to do this kind of thing when Misha’s Dad has time. Misha’s Dad is some kind of high-powered businessman, and Steve didn’t think that people like that had free time, but whatever.

But when Misha somehow manages to connect making his own furniture to string theory and, somehow, Buddhism fits into it all, Steve can’t help zoning out.

The pizza comes and Misha is still talking in between bites of food, until Misha asks him, “So what’ve you been up to besides working?”

Steve almost misses the question which would have given away the fact that Steve wasn’t listening, but still he hesitates before answering. Misha basically knows as much about music as Steve knows about string theory or building furniture. The guy listens to classical more as a back ground noises that helps him ‘concentrate’, and Steve doesn’t want to bore Misha just because he’s excited about his new song.

So instead he tells Misha about the new recipes he worked on with his mom for her blog. Everybody likes food, after all.

Misha is at least able to follow that choice of topic and even says, “You’ll have to make that one for me sometime.”

Steve smiles though for some reason it’s not as broad as before, “Yeah, I’ll have to do that.”

Then Misha’s checking his watch and saying that he ought to get going. Steve snatches the check as soon as it hits the table which only causes Misha to smirk and shake his head.

But as they’re waiting for the change, Misha asks, “So this Sunday…Did you want to come over to my house for lunch?”

Misha is uncharacteristically serious when asking and Steve knows why, or thinks he does. Sunday is apparently a pretty special day for Misha’s family, they go to temple or whatever one calls a Buddhist place of worship or meditation or whatever, and then they have lunch and do stuff as a family. So it’s a big deal for Steve to be invited.

But it would mean that Steve would have to miss his Sunday date with Christian. And, even though, it’s a big deal to spend Sunday with Misha, if Steve had to find Christian and tell the homeless teen that he has to miss this Sunday in the park…Steve is pretty sure Christian would never forgive him. As much as he likes Misha, Steve is unwilling to lose Christian, unwilling to hurt Christian like that.

“Sorry, but I can’t this Sunday. I already promised my mom that I’d go with her to this cooking demonstration thing and it’s only this Sunday…” Steve trails off as he’s suddenly aware that he’s half-babbling as he tries to make his lie as believable as possible.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Misha says comfortingly. “Next time.”

Steve smiles at that, though he’s not sure that he’ll ever have a Sunday free again now that he’s making progress with Christian. And he doesn’t know what to think about that.

Steve takes his change and leaves a good tip, and then they’re walking to his car. Misha changes the radio station immediately, and Steve doesn’t protest even though Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” was on.

He figures it’s just something they’ll have to agree to disagree on. They don’t have to have everything in common and Misha seems to enjoy seeing Steve actually play his guitar though Steve doesn’t know why since Misha doesn’t like his kind of music…

Maybe Misha is silent on the ride, thinking about how Steve rejected his invitation this Sunday. But whatever the reason, neither of them break the silence between them on the drive to Misha’s house. In fact, Steve’s kinda quiet the rest of the day, enough so that Will is actually trying to create conversation between them. Steve decides that he likes the guy when Will puts on Jimi Hendrix.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wednesday finds Christian panhandling on the streets of LA. He hates doing it as much as he knows the people passing him by do. But it’s the only way he can make money that he uses to buy toothpaste and toothbrushes, a bar of soap, a flashlight and batteries to replace the one that was stolen from him when he had first arrived in LA.

But today, he’s only panhandling for a couple dollars, enough to buy a bag of chips and maybe a candy bar at the gas station because he’s starving. So he sits with his back against the wall of some high rise business building holding a cup with a few coins in it. He doesn’t look any of the people passing by in the eye, for his own benefit as well as theirs. Instead his gaze hovers somewhere around chests and shoulders as he tries to look as pathetic as he knows he is.

With the monotony, it’s no surprise that his mind wanders a little.

** Chris is nine years old and he’s been on the wrestling team for two months when things between him and Jeff change a little, when he finds himself naked and on his knees, his tiny trembling thighs straddling Jeff’s khaki-clad leg as Jeff sits on the couch in his living room. Chris’s tiny hands clench Jeff’s shoulders through the polo the man is wearing as he buries his wet face in the cloth beside his right hand.

One of Jeff’s huge hot hands rubs soothing circles on his back, but Jeff’s other hand is…is in his butthole, rubbing inside him. It hurts, the friction despite the sticky stuff Jeff used, the cramping in his belly when the fingers press deep inside.

Chris resists sobbing uncontrollably, but he can’t stop the tears that run down his cheeks in twos and threes or the whines of pain that feel forced out by Jeff’s rubbing. And sometimes Jeff rubs against something inside, something that feels like pleasure but is too intense, making Chris cry out. Every time Jeff touches that spot, Chris can’t decide whether it makes things worse or better.

And through it all is Jeff’s voice. “It’s ok, baby. You’ve just got to get used to it like Michael did. I just want to make you feel good, Chris. Don’t you want to be a good boy and make me happy?”

Chris nods against Jeff’s shirt, ashamed of his tears. He does want to make Jeff happy, so he wipes his face with one hand and then sits up a little, trying to hold still and be good.

“Good, Chris, that’s it. Just relax, baby.” Jeff coos as the hand leaves Chris’s back to swipe at the leftover tears on Chris’s cheeks. “Such a beautiful boy, so good…”**

Christian wipes a hand over his face and through the short spikes of his hair, disgusted at where his thoughts had inevitably gone. Looking into his cup, he decides that he got enough and gets up off the ground stiffly.

He heads immediately toward a nearby gas station which is the only place he feels comfortable shopping at. Gas stations don’t exactly carry anything that his momma would have considered nutritious, but Christian makes do. He buys a bag of Doritos and a Snickers bar, before heading back to the park with his purchases.

Hiding the candy bar in his hidden backpack to save for later, he finds a nice patch of sunshine to eat the chips in. It’s quiet until the inevitable happens.

Christian can’t help tensing his muscles as someone reaches for chips but he relaxes as he looks over to see it was just Daniel. He’s just tipping the bag towards the kid when Mary appears holding Liz’s hand and a pair of scissors.

“Daniel! Did you ask Chris if you could have some?” she snaps obviously frustrated about something. The boy just looks at her sheepishly, a handful of chips on its way to his mouth.

“It’s fine, Mary. Really,” Christian assures her as he then tips the bag towards Liz who releases her momma’s hand to grab some. Again Christian thinks how nutritious chips aren’t for kids not eating a whole lot else, but he knows beggars can’t be choosers. And beggars are exactly what they are.

Mary sighs, still irritated obviously, and Christian finally figures out why as he looks at her two kids again. She’s been giving them haircuts, it looks like.

“Anyway, I was actually looking for you. Did you want me to cut your hair again?” she asks him. Christian just nods as he’s eating his own handful.

He’s wiping his hands on his jeans as he feels her hands in his hair. He has to swallow hard at the pleasurable sensation before he tilts his head back. It feels wonderful, but it’s more than just a pleasurable physical sensation that has him blinking back the sudden wetness in his blue eyes. To be touched affectionately, with no pain, no other expectations, is a luxury that Christian can’t help but be moved by. It makes him miss his own momma something fierce.

Mary seems to understand, drawing it out longer than Christian knows is necessary. And when she’s done, saying, “There. You look even more handsome now,” her tiny hand lingering on the back of his neck.

Christian forces a smile and thanks her as she finally moves away, resists the urge to put his own hand on his suddenly exposed-feeling neck. The kids seem to be finished eating so he gives Mary the rest of the bag, claiming that he’s full when really his stomach is tied up in knots now. Liz has taken to mapping his palm with a tiny finger as it lies on his thigh as Daniel asks, “Who do you think would win in a fight, Batman or Spiderman?”  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It’s Friday night and Steve is back at Jason’s house. It’s not a party, and Jason’s dad is actually home. It’s just a little get-together among friends. They’re in the basement, where there’s a ping-pong table and another tv, some couches. But mostly they’re down there so they can play their guitars without disturbing Jason’s dad.

Jensen is sitting on one couch with Will across from Steve and Jason sitting on another couch. Seeing Jensen alone, Steve just can’t resist, “Where’s Jared, Jens? Did you manage to unhook yourself from the giant or is he coming later?”

Jensen flips him off, saying, “Fuck you, man.” But they can all see that Jensen is blushing and that only fans the flame.

“Wow, he must be incredible between the sheets,” Jason comments. “Sucks like a hoover, gives it to ya like a jackhammer…?”

Blushing deeper, Jensen turns his face away which can only mean one thing: they’re not having sex yet. The fact surprises Steve considering what Jensen has told him of his relationships in the past, but then again, Jensen has also been surprisingly tightlipped about his relationship with Jared. Usually Jensen would have told Steve exactly how long Jared’s dick was by this point in a relationship.

“Oh my God, you’re like in love with him!” Steve exclaims, only to duck as Jensen throws a pillow at his head. He lifts his head only to continue, “What you’re waiting til you two are married?”

“Shut up, Steve. Why don’t you tell us how Misha is in the sack since you and he snuck off to the bathroom last Friday in full view of everybody?”

“It wasn’t the bathroom, and Misha and I aren’t attached at the hip.” The words come out a little more bitter than Steve really meant them, and Jensen picks up on it immediately.

“Trouble in paradise, man?” Jensen says it lightly but Steve knows that Jensen is more than willing to listen if he wants to talk.

“No,” Steve says perhaps a little too vehemently. “We don’t have to agree on everything. We don’t have to be like you, JaredandJensen.” He shrugs.

Jensen doesn’t take offense, just nods. Steve is grateful when Jensen turns his attention to his guitar for a minute. Will, who had been studiously not contributing to their conversation, joins in.

Unfortunately for Will, that gains him Jason’s attention. “So, Will, you were pretty cozy with Sophia last Friday…?”

Will’s fingers stutter on the strings, pulling a god-awful sound out of the instrument and blushes. Jason smirks and finally lets the conversation die.

Steve’s fingers begin the melody to his new song almost unconsciously and Jensen notices that too. “Hey, is that that new song you were working on?”

Steve’s smile is shy as he answers. “Yeah, I had some help on the part that was giving me problems.”

Jensen’s full lips pull downward in a confused frown and Jason bumps Steve’s shoulder. “From who?” Jensen asks.

“Just a friend. Nobody you know.”

And, really, Steve knew that that answer would just make Jensen more curious. “Somebody we don’t know? Where’d you meet this friend?”

Steve shrugs, but he can feel the blush heating his cheeks and he doesn’t even know why he would be blushing. “A guy I met in the park.”

“And how old is this mystery guy?” Jensen pushes.

“Like our age, I think.”

“You think? And he doesn’t go to our school?” Jensen interrogates.

“Wait, is this guy the reason there’s trouble with Misha?” Jason suddenly interjects.

Steve rolls his eyes. “There is no trouble between me and Misha. He’s just a guy I met in the park who’s also into music. Now do you wanna hear the song or not?”

Jensen raises his hands in surrender and Jason snickers, but Steve ignores them in favor of beginning the song.

They’re all impressed by the end and Will is already trying to fit his bass into the chorus. “So what part did the guy help you with?” Jensen asks.

Steve is too happy and proud to worry about Jensen mentioning the mysterious ‘guy’ again. “The second verse. I really like it now.”

“Yeah, I liked it too. The whole thing is really great, man.”

“Soon we’re gonna have enough for a set,” Jason says excitedly. “And then we’re gonna have to find a drummer.”

“And a singer,” Steve adds. He likes singing, but he knows that he’s not a singer, not right for the frontman for a band. He’s tried to convince Jensen to do it, but the guy won’t budge. He’s more into being the leading man in the drama club.

They play some more, things each of them has written as well as covers to some of their favorites, eat more pizza and end up watching some truly terrible movie on the SciFy channel about giant bugs. And when Steve leaves, Jason parting words are, “Hey, you could bring this mystery guy with you next time, if he’s as good as you say.”

Steve just shrugs. He’d love to bring Christian, but somehow he doubts Christian would agree.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It’s Friday night, sometime after midnight, but Christian is awake and moving around in the dark. He grabs his toothbrush, toothpaste, bar of soap and his flashlight, but he doesn’t turn the flashlight on, not yet. Christian knows the path to the park’s bathroom by heart by now.

About every second or third day, Christian washes himself as best he can out of the bathroom sink. Once a week, he washes his extra clothes and spends the next day guarding them as they dry in the sun on some short bushes.

He always does this in the middle of the night because the cops don’t like homeless people washing in the public restrooms. Christian doesn’t like to do it either.

Inside the bathroom, he turns on the flashlight and sets it on the other sink between the faucet and the tiled wall. With a deep breath, Christian takes off his shirt, slinging it over the wall of the nearest stall.

Every sound makes Christian flinch and look over his shoulder at the door. Still he needs to be clean, so he unzips his pants and toes off his shoes. He doesn’t have socks anymore and the tile floor is cool on his bare feet but not unpleasant. He slings the jeans over the stall too.

He washes his face first, and then sticks his head under the faucet to wet his hair. He uses the bar soap for his hair too and tries not to get the soap in his eyes. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he dries his face. He had brought a towel with him from Oklahoma but doesn’t have it now.

After that it’s an odd combination of wet and dry papertowels and still more startled glances over his shoulder. He rubs the bar of soap on some wet papertowels, and then runs them over his skin. He doesn’t use too much soap because it’s too hard to rinse using more wet papertowels or just splashing water over himself. Lowering his boxers, he runs the papertowels over his groin and ass and inner thighs quickly before pulling the shorts back up.

He’s gotten water all over the bathroom by the time he’s done. Christian is actually surprised that the cops haven’t staked out this place yet to find who’s making the mess, but he supposes that it might be dry by morning.

By the time he’s putting his clothes back on, he’s not totally dry, not totally clean either. A lot of homeless people don’t bother, but his momma’s voice in his head makes sure that he at least makes an attempt.

He can’t help but notice the bruises on his legs as he pulls up his jeans. He usually has some bruises nowadays, from walking through the underbrush or bumping into things he’s too tired to avoid or from taking some guy’s cock on his hands and knees. But he was used to bruises long before he ran away from home.

** Chris is ten now. His hair is cut short because Jeff wanted it that way, but he still has big blue eyes.

He shifts in his seat as he sits down at a desk in second period history, his butthole is red and irritated as he sits and walks and wrestles. He nods at the guy that sits down on his right. Wrestling has made him popular both because he’s Jeff’s new favorite and he’s good. People have started to notice.

That fact is proven as he glances to his left to see Susie smiling at him. “Hey,” he says.

She smiles wider, tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder, and says a soft, “Hey,” in return. Chris looks away then as the teacher enters, but he can’t help glancing back at Susie to see that she’s still looking at him.

It’s obvious she likes him. Chris wonders in a vague sickening way if she thinks he’s beautiful, wonders what it would be like to cover her naked body with his own and press inside. Jeff says that’s what you do if you like someone. He wonders if it would make her feel good or not.

Class has barely begun when Chris raises his hand to go to the bathroom. The teacher tsks at him when she sees that his raised arm has bruises on it, five fingerprints ringing his bicep.

“Wrestling is such a brutal sport,” she says as she lets him go.

But the bruises aren’t from wrestling, they’re from Jeff and there are more underneath his jeans. Sometimes Chris can’t help trying to squirm away from the painful impalement. Sometimes Jeff just holds him too tight.

But Chris never really fights back, never attempts to use any of the wrestling moves he’s learned to get away. He never threatens to tell on Jeff, never threatens to quit the wrestling team. Even though he’s still uncomfortable with what Jeff does to him down there in private, Chris loves wrestling, loves the competition, loves the team, loves having an outlet for his frustration and aggression.

It’s not just him anymore either. Shortly after that first time, Jeff spoke to the owner of the restaurant Chris’s momma works at. Everybody knows and respects Jeff, and now Jeff’s momma gets better shifts so she can spend more time at home with Jenny while Chris is at wrestling practice. And Jeff sponsored Jenny for a dance scholarship at a prestigious dance school that they could never have afforded otherwise. Jenny will probably get a scholarship to OU when she graduates in two years too.

In the end though, Chris loves Jeff. He still feels proud when Jeff praises him on the wrestling mat or in Jeff’s bedroom. His heart still swells when Jeff pets him affectionately, when Jeff ruffles his hair during practice, when Jeff hugs him close even when they’re naked and Jeff’s sweaty and panting. Chris tries to like it when Jeff touches his penis, strokes inside his butthole with finger or penis, because Jeff’s just trying to pleasure Chris, just showing Chris that Jeff loves him. And Chris tries his best to be worthy so that Jeff won’t leave him.

Entering the bathroom, Chris just goes inside a stall and closes the lid. He sits down on the toilet lid and puts his head down between his knees. He feels nauseous, feels like he’s had a hard rock inside his stomach for a year now, but he can’t throw up all the time or he’ll never make weight. So he breathes slowly through his nose, concentrates on breathing.**

Christian dresses quickly, shoves his feet back in his worn-out shoes, brushes his teeth and makes his way back to his backpack. He’s used to hiding, used to feeling like nobody cared enough to really look, to see him.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sunday, Steve is conflicted as he gets ready to go to the park. He loves music. Misha loves…other things. But how much does it matter, he wonders. Christian loves music…but Christian is completely unavailable for many reasons. Those same reasons are why Steve should not think about how hot Christian is, particularly when Christian is being petulant with that pouty lower lip and curling top lip.

Steve sighs and rubs his face. He shouldn’t be including Christian in his thoughts at all. It’s not an either or situation, either he can have Misha or Christian, it’s just about whether Steve thinks Misha and he have enough in common to be dating.

Irritated with himself, he grabs his guitar and heads to his car. At the park, he heads to his favorite spot and sees Christian is already there, waiting with his hands in his pockets and looking uncomfortable which comes off as irritated.

“Hey dude,” Steve says, trying for casual as he slaps his hand down on Christian’s shoulder. Christian doesn’t react casually though, flinching away and rounding on Steve with panic in his wide blue eyes.

“Whoa, hey, sorry,” Steve says hurriedly, not wanting the other teen to bolt. Christian just nods and looks away but Steve can see the guy’s chest moving with fast breaths.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, but this time Christian glares at him so he drops it and drops to the ground. He can think of too many reasons why the homeless teen would flinch at being touched, none of them good.

Christian waves away the second apology with an aggravated hand. He hates that he probably looks like a pussy to this guy now, flinching when Steve touched him, but it was unexpected, he reasons. He sits down too, a little closer than usual just to show the hippie that he’s not afraid. He even tries to think of something to say, but comes up blank.

“So I played that new song for some of my friends,” Steve begins as he gets out his guitar. “They really liked it, and they all thought that it sounded a lot better after you fixed it.”

“You told them about me?” Christian asks suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Steve treads carefully. “I just said a new friend that I met in the park helped me with the second verse.”

Christian frowns but can’t decide whether he’s upset about that or not. If Steve is telling the truth then he didn’t mention anything about Christian being Steve’s charity case, so maybe it’s ok. He doesn’t bother saying that they’re not friends. Steve can think whatever he wants in that pretty little head.

Steve’s hands move immediately into playing “Ballad of Denim Boy and Grey Girl”, just playing not singing. He’s almost surprised when Christian says, “It’s a good song.”

Steve looks up to see Christian biting his lip as if he hadn’t meant to say that, to give Steve an honest compliment. Again.

He smiles. His fingers finish his own song and begin moving immediately into another by the Beatles. “Hey, do you know the name of this song?”

Christian cocks his head a little at the strangeness of the question, but within a few seconds he says, “Taxman. Beatles.”

Steve smiles again. “Yep. How about…” Steve plays another easy one.

“Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash,” Christian retorts, getting into the game despite himself.

The next one takes Christian a little longer before he says, “That Summer. Garth Brooks.”

Steve laughs at Christian’s enthusiasm stilling his hands for a second. “Hey,” Christian says. “Can you play “Western Skies by Chris Ledoux?”

“Sure,” Steve says, pleasantly surprised that Christian actually asked him for something even as simple as a song. Christian’s feet move as Steve plays and sings the request.

When it ends, Steve can tell that Christian is going to ask for another song and he’s not disappointed. “Do you know “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd?”

Steve lowers his brows. “I know a lot of Skynyrd songs, but I’m not sure of all their names. How does it go?”

“Oh, you know,” Christian says because Steve has got to know it. The hippie seems to know everything else. “And be a simple kind of man, or be something you love and understand…” Christian sings.

Steve smiles then. He just can’t help himself. He’s ready for Christian to be pissed at him for the trick, and is shocked when Christian laughs and smiles, smiles. Hardly believing his eyes, he stares at the genuine smile on Christian’s face, a smile that lights up the teen’s whole countenance. Steve thinks that Christian looks irresistible when he smiles like that.

“You fucker,” Christian says with a laugh. Steve had totally played him and Christian had to respect the guy for that. He had gotten so caught up, it was like he had forgotten himself…or remembered himself, remembered who he was without all of his memories clogging his brains.

Steve starts the song from the beginning, “Come on. Sing it from the top.”

And Christian does, he sings, “Momma told me, when I was young…” And it’s freeing and happy and he doesn’t think at all, he just sings.

Steve meant to sing along, but now he finds himself awestruck again, this time by the sound of the guy’s voice. Christian’s voice is powerful and expressive, with just that hint of twang. Christian makes the song sound intimate, like it’s a story between friends.

Christian knows that Steve is listening to his voice. He’s been complimented often enough on it to not be surprised, but he gives the hippie a knowing, challenging look that jumpstarts Steve into singing along. Steve’s voice is completely different than his own, Christian knows. Steve has a low raspy voice and yet it fits in easily.

When that song ends, Steve’s ready. “I know you know this one…”

Christian laughs again as he recognizes the tune. It’s “I Shoulda Been a Cowboy” by Toby Keith. He can’t not sing along, not now, not when he feels happy for the first time in a long time. Steve just makes things so easy. It takes Christian effort to resist the pull from those serene blue eyes and laughing lips and he just doesn’t have the energy.

“My mama loves that song.” Christian surprises himself by saying the words. They just came out, like all of a sudden he could think of her, talk about her to Steve without all of the guilt and fear and shame that he normally feels.

And Steve doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just shakes his hair out of his eyes and says, “Yeah?” like he’s looking for confirmation but doesn’t expect an answer. “My mom loves this one.”

“Tiny Dancer. Elton John,” Christian says, recognizing the song, and Steve smiles and nods. All of a sudden Christian has the urge to touch Steve, like he could absorb Steve’s calm, caring nature through skin to skin contact, like touching Steve would crystallize this moment so that Christian could feel like this forever.

Christian’s hand twitches against his own leg, but he can’t reach out, can’t make himself that vulnerable yet. Yet, Christian thinks, like one day it’ll be possible. Christian isn’t even disappointed that he can’t, because he gets caught back up in the song, in Steve’s voice, in staring at Steve’s beauty. And it’s enough for now, without touching.

They sing Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” and the Doobie Brothers’ “Black Water”, and they howl Eric Clapton’s “Laila” to the darkening sky. And Steve is simply amazed at how easy it is, how underneath their superficial differences, underneath Christian’s defensiveness, they have this shared history of music that they heard as children, a shared love, shared passion and emotion.

And Christian is still smiling and he’s still beautiful as he tips his face up to look at the sun dipping under the tree line.

“I guess you should be going.” Christian’s words surprise Steve out of his gazing at the vulnerable line of Christian’s throat. The words also take some of the wind out of both their sails, because they both know that Christian’s right.

“Yeah, I guess I should.” Steve doesn’t get up though, he doesn’t want to leave yet. He wants to stay, wants to take Christian with him, feed him a good meal, give him a soft clean bed to sleep in, he just plain wants…

But it’s like Christian knows what he’s thinking as Christian turns his face away, showing Steve his sculpted profile and lips thin with stress. Christian doesn’t want Steve to ask, doesn’t want Steve to ruin their perfect afternoon by reminding them both that Christian’s homeless, doesn’t want to have to tell Steve ‘no’.

Steve ducks his own face away, hoping he can hide his own disappointment that way, before he straightens and puts away his guitar. Christian stands when he does and to Steve’s constant surprise, the homeless teen gives him a small smile as goodbye.

But Steve can’t just leave, “Hey, I…Wednesday, do you wanna meet…?” He’s too flustered, too desperate to come up with any kind of excuse to see Christian again.

“Yeah, two right?” Christian says like it’s always been that easy between them.

“Yeah.” Steve hesitates only a second longer looking at Christian before he turns away. It takes effort not to look back on the way to his car.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

When Steve re-enters his house, he’s even more conflicted than when he left. He’s practically in a daze as he drops his guitar case outside of his bedroom door and heads into the kitchen. His dad had to go out of town on business so it’s just his mom who greets him there.

“Hey, hon. Did you just get back from the park?”

“Yeah,” he says simply as he sits.

“So things must be going well with this homeless boy?” she prompts further.

Steve turns stricken eyes on her. He doesn’t even know what to say. Does he tell her how Christian’s smile is there behind his eyelids every time he blinks? Does he tell her how the last time he masturbated he pictured Christian on his back in the sunshine with parted lips and thighs?

“It is. He’s…he knows all the same songs and he sings…” Steve can’t help the smile that forms when he thinks of Christian singing, when he thinks of how much fun they both had. “He’s got a great voice.”

“That’s great. Do you know his name yet?”

“Yeah. It’s Christian from Oklahoma.” His smile abruptly fades as he wonders again why Christian is on the streets, what made him travel so far from his home? Steve sees again those panicked blue eyes when he had touched the other teen unexpectedly this afternoon.

“Mom, I just…” He still doesn’t know what to say.

His mom sighs as she puts the last of dinner on the table and then sits. “Steve, I know you want to help this boy, want to just sweep in and make everything better, but that’s not the way this is going to work. Firstly because you can only help as much as Christian will accept.”

“I know but he’s…”

“Adorable like a lost puppy you just want to take home with you?” she deadpans.

Steve’s mouth is still open as he starts to laugh. “Yeah, I guess, though I dare you to say that to him.”

“Defensive, huh?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah. But I think he’s scared, he acts…” Steve shakes his head in frustration at his own inability to find the words to explain and then tucks the loose strands behind his ears again. “But today he was fun, he was…I like him,” Steve finally admits.

He’s afraid to even look up to see the look on her face. He knows, knows it’s pretty much the worst idea ever, and then there’s Misha…

But his mom is obnoxiously silent until he looks up. Her face is serious as she finally speaks, “Maybe he’s the love of your life, I don’t know, but I do know he’s not in a place right now where he can make that kind of decision, where he can love you back. And it may be a long time before he’s ready.”

That, frankly, was not what Steve had expected her to say. He had expected outright condemnation. “But Misha,” he blurts.

“Misha is something you need to decide independently of Christian. And you need to decide it soon before someone gets hurt.” Her voice is firm, but not harsh because Steve knows that she’s right, again.

The rest of dinner is fairly silent.

Steve shuts himself in his room after dinner with his cell phone. Lying on his bed, he quickly scrolls through his cell phone to find Jensen’s number.

Unfortunately as the phone is ringing, Steve realizes he doesn’t know what to say, how to explain his predicament any more than he did at dinner with his mom.

“Hey Steve,” Jensen answers.

Steve kinda loves caller ID. “Hey, what’s up, man?”

“Not a thing. How ‘bout you?”

“Nothing,” he says hesitating before speaking again. This is awkward. Even though Jensen is his best friend, they don’t generally sit around and talk about their feelings and relationships. “Listen, I wanted to ask, I…shit, what’s different about Jared?”

“What?” Jensen replies in exasperated, friendly annoyance. “Listen, you fucker, you’ve gotta get some new material, because this joke’s gettin’ old…”

“No, Jens, look…I really want to know.”

Jensen’s silent a minute, but Steve can hear rustling like the other teen is getting more comfortable. “Is this about Misha?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “Yeah…I just…we don’t have a lot in common.” He feels stupid even saying it.

He feels more stupid when Jensen laughs, saying, “We’re in high school, man. How much do you need to have in common?”

“I don’t know,” he answers sullenly.

“This is about the guy in the park, isn’t it?”

“No,” Steve says because it isn’t, but it kinda is. “Just, what’s different about Jared?”

Jensen sighs and there’s rustling again. “It’s not that Jay and I have everything in common just because we both moved here from Texas or anything. I mean, you have to have common interests and shit, but we’re not that similar personality-wise, I guess.” Jensen pauses and huffs, apparently also having some problems expressing himself.

“Look, it’s more how you feel when you two are together. Like when I’m with Jared, I feel…comfortable and happy, like I can be myself, I guess. He’s interested in me even if he’s not interested in everything I’m interested in. It’s like I like who I am with him.”

Steve frowns, possibly more confused now. “I-I think that I’m comfortable with Misha. I just don’t understand the things that he’s interested in and don’t want to bore him with talking about music if he doesn’t care.”

“Would you even be worrying about this if there weren’t this other guy?”

“Yeah, I mean, it bothers me when I’m excited about a new song and I don’t even tell Misha about it. Besides it’s not about the guy in the park. The guy in the park is…unavailable.”

“But he makes you feel dissatisfied with Misha? Like there’s something better.”

Thinking about Christian’s similar taste and enthusiasm for music, Steve answers, “Yes.” But then he changes his mind, blurting, “No,” when he thinks about how difficult it had been to get to that point with Christian. Steve certainly hadn’t felt comfortable at the beginning. Then again even when the guy was being an ass, he had been fascinating to Steve, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

But it’s like Jensen said, Steve actually is fairly similar personality wise to Misha, he thinks. They’re both laid-back and chill. Christian is the opposite of chill. He’s tense and volatile, passionate, but Steve felt totally natural with him tonight. Misha’s smile never caused him to feel the way he felt tonight, never made him want to do anything to keep it there.

Steve stalls a minute, tries to make his next words a complete thought. “It’s not fair to Misha if I’m thinking about the other guy.”

“So if this other guy weren’t unavailable, you’d choose him over Misha?”

The moment of silence that Steve needs to answer that question is answer enough.

Jensen blows out a breath. “Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t have some fun with Misha if this other guy is really as unavailable as you say he is. But then if this guy suddenly becomes available and you drop Misha like a hot potato…”

Steve sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t like Misha, he does. They just aren’t meant for each other, he supposes. And maybe that wouldn’t matter so much if there were no Christian, but it’s true whether or not Christian is in the picture.

“Oh God, I’m gonna have to break up with Misha,” Steve moans. He’s never broken up with someone before. He’s never had anything serious enough to break up before. “I’m gonna see the guy in the park again on Wednesday and I don’t want to have this hanging over my head then.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Jensen commiserates, because no matter how much Jensen played the field before Jared, Steve knows he would never be with two guys at once. “Sooo…if you’re really sure, then you should probably just do it. What’s your work schedule? Because I know Misha has the morning shift with me tomorrow, and I was gonna give him a ride, but if you could…”

“Dammit,” Steve interrupts. He is supposed to be at work at the time that they get off from the coffee-shop morning shift tomorrow. “I’m supposed to work, but, you’re right, I need to just get it over with. If I could convince Jason to switch with me…But what will I say?”

Jensen humphs. “Dude, I don’t know. Tell him you don’t have that much in common or just tell him there’s someone else or tell him you’re dying.”

Steve laughs in spite of himself. “I’m gonna try not to lie just to get out of dating him.”

“Yeah,” Jensen snorts, “you will have to see him again. So when I get there at the crack of dawn tomorrow, I’ll just tell him that I’m doing something with Jared and that you’ll take him home.”

Taking a deep breath to calm the dread swirling in his stomach, Steve agrees. After he hangs up with Jensen, he prepares to call Jason and beg.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian wakes Monday morning on his dirty sleeping bag having had a good night’s sleep. Well, what constituted a good night now-a-days. It had been pretty difficult to get used to sleeping on the hard, uneven ground and it had been years before that since he had really slept well. But last night hadn’t been too hot or too cold. He hadn’t woken up at every random sound last night or with any nightmares.

Still, as consciousness returns he becomes very aware of a rock somewhere under his left kidney. With a groan, he rolls over onto his back to look up at the trees above him. It’s a nice view and some days, he actually enjoys waking up here. The sentiment doesn’t usually last long.

But this morning, Christian finds himself actually singing as he rolls up his mattress and then walks over to where he hides it. His steps falter as he notices he’s singing “Simple Man” again. For two years he’d been trying not to think about his past, not to think about anything that might remind him of his past like singing, particularly singing those old songs.

With Steve though…with Steve, he remembers that not all of those memories are horrible. He feels natural. He feels like a person, like someone he wants to be rather than who he actually is.

But Christian stops singing because he knows it’s not going to change anything. It’s not going to change the past, not going to suddenly make certain portions of his past easier to think about, not going to stop his past from intruding on his present. He’s not suddenly going to become someone that might be worthy of Steve, someone that’s worth more than a fuck.

He’s on his way to the park’s bathroom when he sees Daniel and Liz up ahead. They haven’t seen him and he takes a second to watch them. It looks like Liz has fallen over a tree limb and Daniel is kneeling beside her, turning her to sit down so he can look at her knee and, hopefully, keep her from crying. He can’t help smiling to himself at the scene.

Christian is the baby of his family and he used to act like it. He grew up being the center of attention, always saying, “Watch this” and scaring his momma half to death while his Daddy just laughed that deep rumble of affection. Jenny mostly egged him on instead of patched him up, but she could be protective too. Except Christian became the more protective one…

** Chris is ten and in the fifth grade and the best wrestler in his Middle School and still Jeff’s favorite. He walks outside after school with all the swagger that he thinks he should have even though most of the time he feels helpless and needy.  
David Boreanaz walks beside him on their way to the gym for wrestling practice. David is his best friend, even though David is in sixth grade, but David is on the wrestling team with him.

But even though Chris likes David, he can’t help flinching away instinctively with fear and shame when David lays a friendly hand on his shoulder as they walk. It’s something David never mentions, but David never stops trying to touch him and maybe that’s part of why Chris likes him.

As they step outside, Chris spots his sister, Jenny immediately. Jenny’s 14 and in the eighth grade and she doesn’t normally talk to Chris at school. His heart stutters as he sees a boy her age ‘sneak’ up behind her and grab her around the waist. A second later it becomes clear, he’s just tickling her, but Chris is already moving across the lawn.

“Hey,” Chris shouts, twisting the guy’s arm behind his back as Chris drags him away from Jenny. “Leave her alone.”

Both Jenny and David are pulling at Chris’s arms as he lets the guy go with a glare, and a harder push than was necessary. Jenny’s right there smacking his arm.

“Why’d you do that, freak?! Jesus, Chris, just stay away from me!”

Chris hangs his head at her words. It’s not the first time that he’s over-reacted and intervened. He just…he can’t help it that he worries. Anything could happen to her, anybody could hurt her. What if…what if someone touched her when she didn’t want it? She can’t trust these stupid, pimply boys.**

It doesn’t help that he was right. People weren’t to be trusted. No matter how nice, how caring Steve seemed it wouldn’t last. Steve would abandon Christian whenever it was convenient, probably after he had spread his legs.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve is about to freak the fuck out as he pulls his car into the parking lot at Perks. He really doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to have to look Misha in the eye and possibly hurt the other teen. He wants to change his mind, except then he thinks of Christian’s face and remembers why he has to do this. He can’t have them both, and he can’t give Christian up.

Taking a deep breath, he gets out of the car and heads to the entrance, pasting a smile on his face right before Jensen and Jared and Misha come outside. Misha heads towards him immediately, saying, “Thanks for the ride. I’d hate to ruin Jensen’s fun.”

Jensen shoots Steve a significant look, nodding his head slightly in what’s probably supposed to be encouragement as he ushers Jared over to where his car is parked. Misha hops right into the passenger side of Steve’s Volvo. He starts talking as soon as Steve shuts the door. “Really, this is great, but didn’t you have to work right now?”

Misha always remembers his schedule, always cares about important dates if Steve tells the other teen about them. It’s sweet and considerate, and this is really not going well, Steve thinks. But as much as Misha remembers the important things, he doesn’t share those things that are important to Steve. A fact which is proven as Steve turns on the car and Misha’s long-fingered hand is there, changing the station.

“Yeah, there’s actually a reason I wanted to pick you up today…”

Steve chances a glance over at Misha whose face shows nothing but mild curiosity. Misha isn’t expecting Steve to say anything bad, and why would he? There’s been no sign of anything wrong between them, because Steve didn’t say anything about his damn musical interests, didn’t say anything about the fact that they barely have anything to say to each other.

But sitting here in the car with Misha waiting for him to say something, Steve feels like an ass, and he literally can’t talk or breathe for a second. He just really doesn’t want to have to do this.

When Misha’s expression starts to turn to concerned, Steve blurts out, “I think we should break up.”

Steve is staring at the road ahead as he elaborates. “I just, I don’t think that we have that much in common.”

Misha is silent, totally and completely silent and when Steve looks over Misha is staring at his hands in his lap.

“Misha…?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah, I mean if you don’t want to date any more then that’s that.”

That wasn’t the answer that Steve was hoping for but then again, Steve really can’t think of a way that this could have gone well. “I-I don’t know anything about furniture or physics or Buddhism, and you don’t know anything about my kind of music.”

“We don’t have to have everything in common, and we could teach each other.”

“I know. But you’ll never love music the way that I do, and I’ll never be a Buddhist.”

Steve catches Misha nodding. Steve doesn’t say how he just wants to talk about writing a new song with someone who’s as enthusiastic as he is. He can’t teach Misha to have passion for something. So they’re quiet for the eight minutes that it takes to pull up to Misha’s house. And Steve’s miserable.

As he pulls in the drive he wants to say something, ask if Misha’s mad at him, say that they can still be friends. It all sounds stupid and trite in his head, though. So he just watches with a sorrowful expression as Misha climbs out of the passenger car.

Misha ducks his head back in though, saying, “Still friends, right?”

Steve is stupid with relief, a warm, real smile lighting his face. “Yeah, I’d really like to be.”

“Ok then,” Misha says and then shuts the door. Steve can’t help watching the other teen walk up the steps and into the house.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wednesday can’t come fast enough for Steve. He knows it shouldn’t make a difference, but now that he’s not with Misha, there’s an extra anticipation in his meeting with Christian. Not to mention how easily Christian had accepted the invitation, how much fun they’d had together last Sunday.

God, Steve had this irrepressible desire to just reach out and touch Christian today. And he knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t even think it. He thinks, really, that he should feel guiltier over ending things with Misha but he doesn’t in the face of seeing Christian again.

And when he shows up at the park and sees Christian waiting and Christian smiles and then ducks his head when he recognizes Steve…Yeah, he’s done.

Christian allows the smile to pull up his lips. Just because he doesn’t trust Steve, doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the hippie’s company. It doesn’t mean anything, Christian tells himself. He’s not involved and he wouldn’t have given a damn if Steve hadn’t shown up.

The fucking joyful smile on Steve’s face though…Christian can’t help looking away for a moment because there’s no way that smile’s meant for him. He can’t help looking back a second later either, just because he loves that look on Steve’s face even if it doesn’t mean anything.

“Hey,” Steve says and it’s awkward. It’s funny because of all of the time that Steve has spent chasing this guy around, and now that he’s caught Christian, Steve’s self-conscious just standing here. He figures sitting is a good idea.

“Have any song requests?” Steve asks, feeling like a total tool. Christian shakes his head, but there’s a ghost of a smile curving his lips as he sits too. Steve isn’t surprised that Christian would have reverted a little, but he can tell that he hasn’t lost all the ground he gained.

Christian just waits as Steve tunes the guitar, messing with the grass underneath his fingers. He doesn’t really know how to act. They’re not friends, not really, not when Christian is homeless and pathetic. He doesn’t want to presume anything, but he wishes that he could think of something to say, something so his attitude doesn’t just scare Steve away because he’s gotten used to this.

He’s just as much at a loss as he’s been every other time he’s tried to think of something to say around Steve. It’s embarrassing, like pretty much everything else about him, and he can barely look at Steve. And yet, Christian can’t help darting glances up at the other teen, to see Steve’s fingers moving gracefully along the strings, to see the wide open v of the shirt Steve’s wearing, to see how Steve’s hair lightly curls around Steve’s face, and finally, to see the contented, adoring expression on Steve’s face. Steve loves the music, lives inside the music, is the music, and Christian longs to feel that way again.

Steve carefully keeps his head down as he tunes the guitar, not wanting to put Christian on the spot. But he lifts his head as he begins to play an old song, something he thinks will lift the mood, put a smile back on Christian’s face.

He’s not expecting for Christian to look at him quizzically as he sings. “You don’t know this one?” he asks with surprise.

Christian can feel his face heating as he looks back towards the ground and shakes his head, suddenly feeling like he’s ruined everything. He almost expects Steve to laugh at him.

And Steve does laugh but not at him. “It’s a really old song. My mom listens to it, and there are hand motions…”

Christian can’t resist looking up at Steve then. “Hand motions…?”

“Yeah, with the chorus,” Steve feels like a fool, but if it makes Christian happy, he’ll gladly do it. He puts his guitar down on the ground beside them and begins to sing the chorus a cappella. “Running Bear loved little White Dove, with a love big as the sky…” he sings while making stupid hand motions from the seventies if not earlier.

Christian starts to laugh when Steve puts his hands over his heart for the second time in the classic dramatic gesture of fairy tale love. “What the fuck is that?”

“Dude, it’s the hand motions. My mom always does them in the car when this song comes on the oldies station.” Steve is smiling as he answers because Christian is still chuckling. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t make them or anything.”

“But you do them…with your mom…in the car.”

Christian can’t help ragging on the other guy a little, especially since he can see the amusement shining through the embarrassment on Steve’s face. Jesus, he’s barely sat down and Steve is making him laugh, making him smile, making him feel like a real person.

He’s just opening his mouth to say something else when he hears a shout, “Hey hobo! He’s not giving you money!”

The smile vanishes immediately because Christian knows that whoever it is that’s yelling is speaking to him. Steve made him forget, but this guy walking up with short blonde hair and squinty eyes only had to take one look at him to know that he’s not good enough to be hanging out with the hippie.

It takes Steve a moment to realize that Chad is there in the park, walking towards him with Jason, Jensen, Jared, Tom, and Mike following behind. It takes him another minute to realize what Chad said.

By the time that he’s figured everything out, Christian is already yelling back, “Fuck you, man! I’ll do whatever I want.”

Steve darts his hand out to grab Christian’s wrist without thinking as Christian shifts as if to run. He softens it to simply lay a hand on Christian’s forearm immediately, though.

“Guys,” he speaks up before anyone else can escalate this fight. “This is a friend. Christian, this is Chad, Jason, Jensen, Jared, Tom, and Mike.”

Christian’s stiff and tense, hating the way the other teens are still standing, looking down on him like he’s as pathetic as he is, like he’s not a real person. Steve may have introduced him as a friend, but there’s no way that these guys will overlook the fact that he’s homeless, a charity case. There’s no way that he can sit here and make polite conversation with them staring at him like he’s dirt.

“I’ve gotta go, Steve,” Christian says, shrugging off Steve’s hand gently and standing. He can’t help giving the group an angry once-over with his eyes. These people are Steve’s real friends. They occupy a space in Steve’s life that he’ll never see. He manages not to run away back to his hiding place.

“Dude, you’re such a pushover,” Chad says as he sits.

“Chad, shut up,” Jensen says with real annoyance in his voice. “It’s not his fault that he’s on the streets.”

“He’d be better off in foster care,” Tom ventures his opinion cautiously.

“How do you know he’s not running away from foster care?” Jensen snaps.

“Or what if it’s his parents he’s running from and the system would just send him back,” Jason interjects.

Chad’s rolling his eyes, but Mike takes up his cause. “Look at him, he’s like starving. He’s not exactly better off on the streets where anything could happen to him.”

“Guys,” Steve says again. “It’s his choice.”

It seems like they all shuffle uncomfortably then, and Steve thinks that the discussion is about to start back up so he asks, “What are all of you doing here anyway? How’d you find me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason says and holds up a Frisbee. “The bathroom at the store was flooding so I got the afternoon off and thought I’d get some people together to play. Your mom said you’d be here already. I was gonna call but then you were right here.”

“Oh,” Steve says but his mind is still on Christian, on the expression on the homeless teen’s face before he left. Christian looked ashamed, defensive but wounded. “Listen, guys, I’m gonna…” he gestures awkwardly in the direction that Christian had gone. “I gotta find him.”

He knows that they’re all watching him quizzically as he leaves, not understanding why he’s chasing down this homeless guy. There’s being nice, and there’s giving to the less fortunate, and then there’s how Steve feels about Christian.

However, Steve is now realizing that he has no idea where Christian goes when he heads to this section of the park. And after stumbling through some dense brush, he’s even more thankful he left his guitar behind with his friends.

It’s like a city back there, a city of tents hidden from the eyes of most of the city of LA. Steve finds himself weaving his way around people sitting on sleeping bags and coming out of tents, homeless people just sitting around talking, sleeping, eating, drinking, living. He feels like an explorer in an unnamed land.

And, again, he feels so awkward, it’s not even funny. Everyone just stares at him like he doesn’t belong, like he’s a threat. Steve is about to turn tail and leave when he sees the back of Christian’s head, heading away from the rest of the homeless people.

Christian is actually heading closer to the edge of the park and Steve thinks maybe Christian is actually heading into the city, but, instead, Christian stops and sits down with his back against a tree. Steve still can’t see the other teen’s face, but his body language says dejected loud and clear.

“Christian,” Steve calls out to announce himself instead of sneaking up on the guy. He’s not surprised when Christian looks up with a surprised expression and then looks away with an aggravated one.

“Godammit, son. Leave me the hell alone.” Christian says. What the fuck is Steve doing following him when his friends are out there waiting? Why is Steve so fucking stubborn?

Steve has the nerve to laugh a little before saying, “I just can’t seem to do that.”

“No shit,” Christian says irritably. “The question is why?”

Sitting down beside Christian close, but hopefully not too close, Steve shrugs, “I like hanging out with you, singing all those old songs. Plus you fixed my lyrics.”

Christian shakes his head a little, because he knows that’s not the reason. “Listen, I know you’re trying to be nice to me and all, but you can go back to your friends.”

Lifting his head just in time to see Steve opening his mouth, Christian knows that the hippie is going to deny it so he cuts Steve off. “Not every runaway has a sob story they need saving from.”

It’s not a lie, particularly because Christian didn’t say anything about himself. But Steve looks dubious at best so he continues, “See the girl over there?”

Steve looks in the direction of Christian’s vague hand gesture to see a short girl with brown shoulder-length hair. She’s just average looking, a little plump, a little plain. She’s packing stuff in a backpack and talking with a teenage boy who’s long and lanky.

“She’s a nice girl from a nice family who ran away from home only because her parents disapproved of her boyfriend.” Christian knows this because he had overheard them talking once.

Steve looks over at her again, notices how her boyfriend definitely looks the type to set mothers on edge, but then he turns back to Christian. He almost misses it when Christian says quietly, “But him…his dad definitely beat the shit out of him.”

Shaking his head, Steve doesn’t know what this is supposed to prove, talking about other people like Christian doesn’t act like a wounded animal or a seductive siren half the time. But when he looks back at Christian, the guy’s pasted a plastic smile on his full lips.

“I just ran away to Hollywood, man. Mama always said ‘follow your dreams’.”

Christian looks down again then, unable to hold the lie. Yeah, his mama did always say that and that’s why he ran straight to LA. It was always his dream to be an actor, a musician, a performer. But it obviously wasn’t a fairy tale. He couldn’t get a job having no contact information, no address, no phone number, no references. Even McDonald’s would take one look at him and call Child Protective Services. Even when he turns eighteen, he’s got no future with no high school diploma, no experience, and still no contact information. Not like acting agencies are going to knock down his door when he looks like a bum.

And maybe he doesn’t deserve anything but a life on the streets, only having whatever people are willing to give, spreading his legs for any guy that looks at him. Because that’s what he is, right? A filthy whore. Hell, some guys even call him that while they’re fucking him.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, but he knows enough not to push Christian on this or call the guy a liar. So he changes the subject. “My friends, they’re not…well, Chad’s an ass, but you should hang out with them, with us sometime.”

Christian’s smile is self-deprecating as he hangs his head. He’s not even going to dignify that with an answer. Steve’s friends aren’t going to suddenly accept Christian and, if they did, it would just be because Steve told them not to make a scene. And what would they possibly do together? Christian can’t go to the movies or to a restaurant, certainly can’t go over to any of their houses…hell, if they played Frisbee, he’d probably pass out or something. No thanks.

It’s getting dark around them and Steve knows that he should go but he doesn’t want to this time either for a different reason. Christian looks defensive, like he’s raised all his walls against Steve, but Christian’s blue eyes still give him away. He looks miserable.

“Just go,” Christian says, his voice an odd mixture of command and pleading. He doesn’t want Steve sitting here staring at him, acting like things can be different than they are. Yeah, Steve cares now but he’ll eventually lose interest and then where will Christian be? Even more dejected and lonely, that’s where.

Steve nods and stands, unable to think of anything else to do. “Sunday,” he says, an instruction and a plea. Slowly he walks to the edge of the park and then back to his car.

Christian gets up too, hurries around the edge of where the other homeless people camp to get around where he normally keeps to himself. He hasn’t even sat down though, when Daniel and Liz come crashing through the underbrush.

“Chris! Chris!” they cry as they launch themselves at him, and it’s just like every other day except something isn’t right. The kids are too frantic, their voices uncharacteristically high-pitched even for little kids.

“Hey,” he says in a calm voice as he reaches down to put soothing hands on each of their backs, pulling them into him. “What’s going on?”

“Mommy, she…” Liz begins but breaks off with a sob, falling into Christian’s leg.

“Daddy’s here,” Daniel says simply, but he too is gripping onto Christian’s arm, wanting comfort.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian immediately straightens, pulling the two kids firmly into the underbrush. “Where?” he asks. And then, “Stay here,” he orders before charging off at a jog in the direction the kids indicated.

Leaves flap in his face as he jogs through the foliage without care until he stops at the sight before him. Mary’s husband is big, taller than Christian, bigger than Christian, and he’s currently standing over her form slumped on the ground.

Christian’s eyes search the area, looking for a stick, a rock…a beer bottle is lying underneath a nearby tree. He doesn’t think, he simply moves, grabbing for the bottle with one hand even as he’s continuing towards the broken tableau in front of him.

His left hand grabs the man’s thick, muscular shoulder as his right brings the bottle down hard. It breaks, shattering green-colored glass over Christian’s hand and over the man’s dark blonde hair, but Christian doesn’t wait, immediately turning the guy over with his left hand as the man falls, stunned. Christian straddles him, punches the man once, twice, three times before the guy lies still on the grass.

Panting and shaking, and, fuck, Christian kinda wants to throw up as the adrenaline is still flooding his weakened system. He falls forward a little before using the man’s chest to push himself off onto the grass. Despite his own discomfort, he first crawls over to where Mary lies on her side, eyes closed, unmoving.

“Mary,” he calls out. Then he taps her cheek, and when she still doesn’t move, he starts to panic again. If he called out for help would anyone come? Would someone take advantage of this situation? Of her defenselessness?

Steve, he thinks suddenly, and he’s up and sprinting before he can think too hard about whether Steve will already have left. His legs and lungs burn with disuse, but he keeps running, faster, knowing that Steve is his only hope of getting Mary desperately needed medical attention.

His legs turn to jello as he spies Steve getting into the driver’s seat of a stationwagon. He hears the car start right before his shins slam into the front bumper as he falls on the hood.

At another time, Steve’s startled face would be funny, but Christian can’t breathe and everything hurts and Mary and two little kids are depending on him. His hands claw at the green paintjob as Steve opens the door and gets out. “What the fuck…”

“Hospital,” Christian gets out. “I need…take…someone to the…hospital. Please.”

Steve doesn’t know what the fuck to think or do as Christian slowly straightens up. He looks like hell, pale and ashen in the streetlight, panting hard with wide terrified eyes. He nods deliberately and then only follows as Christian takes off trying to run again.

Steve keeps pace easily, but he can see that Christian is struggling to keep going. Whatever’s happening, it’s serious enough to have Christian on the edge of exhaustion and still pushing. Steve gets another fright when two kids pop out of nowhere and practically knock Christian down.

It’s a boy and a girl and they obviously know Christian, are pulling on him with small hands and pleading with him with tear-stained faces. Steve doesn’t ask, not even when Christian pushes the kids at him. “Stay here,” Christian says.

Christian runs off, glad that he can do this part himself even though he’s not sure that he’s capable of it. Both Mary and her jackass husband are still on the ground as he approaches.

“Mary, come on,” he says though he’s not surprised when she still doesn’t stir. He hopes it was just a hit on the head, a concussion or something and nothing more serious. He tries to be careful as he cradles her upper body against his chest before shifting her over his shoulder in something like a fireman’s carry. Something like a fireman’s carry except that Mary is sliding down his front as he struggles to carry her.

His muscles scream and burn, but he does it because he has to. As he makes his way back though, Steve immediately tries to help take some of her weight.

Steve moves past the two crying children to help Christian, distantly hearing the children crying harder at the sight of the woman on Christian’s shoulders. He has no idea what’s going on, but this woman clearly needs help. As he helps to shift some of her weight to himself though, he notices Christian’s knuckles are bleeding like he’s been in a fight.

“I didn’t do it,” Christian gasps out, sounding like he’s going to pass out himself any second. “I didn’t hurt her. Please just help us.”

Steve is too dumbfounded to answer. Of course, he didn’t think that Christian could have done this, but then there are children tripping up his steps as they grab at the woman now being held between them. Unfortunately, neither teen is able to do anything to comfort the children as they struggle to simply get the woman to the car.

The walk seems to take too long, too long for her and too long for Christian who hasn’t stopped panting, but eventually Steve is unlocking the back doors. Christian climbs in first, semi-dragging the woman along the seat with him as Steve fumbles to help. The kids try to climb in right after, but Steve stops them, even as he looks to Christian for instructions.

“Guys, I need you to sit in the front seat, ok? Your momma’s not feeling well now and she needs to lie down.”

Steve is still in wonder at the whole situation, at the fact that these kids who’re crying for their mommy are listening to Christian. But he doesn’t have time to wonder at whether this changes all his assumptions about Christian’s past, though it’s obvious that the woman is not Christian’s mother and the kids aren’t Christian’s either. Instead he concentrates on driving quickly but safely to the hospital and calling his own mother to come help.

“Shhh, she’s gonna be fine, guys,” Christian says softly, two terrified faces peering at him from around the front seat. He prays that he’s not lying to them. “She’s just resting so she can get better.”

With Mary’s weight pinning him down, Christian’s still struggling for breath and feeling a little dizzy from his exertion. And he’s scared and worried and overwhelmed. He can hear Steve on his cell phone, but Christian can’t think about who Steve is calling right now. There’s too much on his lap, literally.

Still, he feels a fresh bolt of fear when Steve actually pulls up at the hospital, and can’t help shooting a worried look at the two kids. There’s no time, though, as Steve leans in to help pull Mary out of the car and carry her in the front doors. Mary is taken from them immediately since she’s unconscious and rushed away.

But then there are questions, about Mary’s medical history and family, about what had happened. Liz and Daniel cling to him, depending on him and he just feels like he’s being drowned and his legs are still shaking.

As soon as the questions stop though, Steve is there. Christian had practically forgotten about the other teen, but now Steve’s ushering him to sit down with a barely there hand on his back. Liz climbs onto his lap and Daniel looks like he wants to but instead sits in the chair next to Christian and clings to Christian’s hand.

Steve sits down on the other side, amazed at this new aspect of Christian that has children clinging to him. It kinda dashes his view of the guy as a complete loner, because Christian obviously knows and cares about this woman and her kids. Christian still looks pale and wan, nervous and twitchy, scared and worried. Christian’s still breathing in short pants like he can’t catch his breath.

Steve really wants to clasp Christian’s other hand in his own. In the end, he settles for trailing his fingertips down Christian’s bare forearm, just wanting to let the other teen know that he’s there.

He’s not expecting the reaction, for Christian to turn to him with wet miserable eyes, looking like he’d start sobbing if he let himself.

“Christian?” Steve turns in his chair to more face the other teen. “What’s wrong?”

Christian snorts but it comes out almost like a sob. “Everything,” he manages before he’s turning his face away, hiding behind the little girl’s brown hair.

“Hey,” Steve says, his hand still gently rubbing Christian’s arm that lays on the arm rest between them. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on here at the very least.”

“Her husband,” Christian starts with a glare that softens as he tries to protect the children in his arms from his anger. When he starts again, his voice is tired. “She had finally run away from him with the kids four months ago even though there was a waiting list at the women’s shelter, but he…he found her tonight.”

“And you found her afterward?” Steve prompted.

Christian nods, saying, “Found them. He’s still lying in the park for all I know.”

Oh shit, Steve thinks, that explains Christian’s knuckles. He wonders if Christian is hurt at all on top of his exhaustion. He looks up, away from Christian for a moment, hoping that his mom is hurrying. Because he does not know how to handle this.

And yet Christian doesn’t seem terribly upset by the fact that it was obviously him that left the man lying there. Tears begin to fill Christian’s blue eyes only when he looks down at the little girl in his lap again.

“Hey, maybe it’s for the best. Maybe she can file charges and really begin a new life. I know you’re worried about the kids, but I’m sure they’ll be fine in foster care for just a little while until she’s better.” Steve has no idea if what he’s saying is complete bullshit, but he has to say something to wipe that anguished look off of Christian’s face.

Christian attempts to wipe his face discretely, saying in a rough voice, “No, I know. She couldn’t raise them on the street forever, that’s no kinda life.” But as soon as he gets the words out, he looks like he’s even closer to crying than before.

“So what’s wrong? I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Steve says.

Christian simply shook his head, too embarrassed to admit that he’s scared for himself when Mary could be seriously hurt, when there are two kids clinging to him for support who may have lost their mother. All he says is, “When the social worker comes…”

Steve doesn’t get it. “When the social worker comes, we’ll have to let the kids go, Christian.” Steve says the words softly, confident that Christian’s tears are for his own grief at possibly losing contact with these kids who obviously mean a lot to him.

But Christian shakes his head sadly, seeming resigned and yet terrified at the same time. “No,” he chokes out. “I’ll have to go, too.”

“What?” Steve asks before his brain has really caught up. And then it hits him. Christian is underage. Christian is a runaway. Christian is going to be taken away by social services and he looks terrified. “Christian…? What…?”

The sound Christian makes then is definitely a sob but Christian’s face is turned away again. Managing to swallow any other sounds, Christian ruffles Daniel’s hair trying to concentrate on comforting the boy. He hates himself because he’s already contemplating how he can sneak out, because he can’t go back. He can’t face his momma, his sister, Jeff.

Steve gathers his thoughts while watching Christian a moment, before he speaks. “Maybe it’ll be best for you too.”

Christian’s head pops up at that remark and Steve is dumbfounded by how stricken Christian looks at the mere suggestion. “I can’t,” he says simply. He looks down at the kids with anguish in his eyes, “I can’t go back.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that Steve’s been trying to put together but there’s still a black hole in the middle that’s the picture of what Christian’s running away from. What can’t Christian go back to?

But in the end it doesn’t matter, and it’s not the right time to ask with Christian broken open and practically in tears. In the end, the only thing that matters is that Christian is determined to leave. And for whatever reason that Steve can’t even articulate, Steve is going to help him. He can’t not.

He looks up to see his mom entering through the double sliding doors, finally. “Listen,” Steve says and he can’t resist squeezing Christian’s arm briefly. “I think I can help, just wait for a minute. Don’t leave yet.”

Steve’s mom looks harried and her face breaks into relief when she sees him. She even brings him into a tight quick hug despite that he had assured her on the phone that he was perfectly fine. “What is going on?” she asks sharply.

“Uhhh,” for a second, Steve has no idea how to explain what he barely understands. He gestures to Christian sitting in the plastic hospital chair with the two children. “Christian, he…This woman who was hiding from her abusive husband with her two kids…The husband found them and Christian defended her.”

“You weren’t involved were you?” It’s almost soothing, that he’s her first concern.

“No, mom. I only helped get her to the hospital after everything.”

She nods and then goes to move past him towards Christian. “Mom, wait, listen. Social Services will probably come for the kids…and for Christian.”

Her expression softens immediately as her eyes looks over Christian and the children again. “Maybe it’s for the best, Steven.”

Steve hates that she’s saying words he said himself not too long ago. “He’s scared. He’s gonna leave before social services get here anyway, I just thought…you could stay with the kids and maybe-maybe I could take him to our house?”

It’s a question and his face shows all of his earnest pleading. His mom’s face is tight as she answers, “Taking him in is not going to solve all of his problems.” But her face softens again and she sighs before continuing. “If he’s going to leave anyway…but if anyone decides to press charges or the police get involved at all, I’m going to have to tell them where he is.”

Steve nods frantically but she’s already moving. He catches up in time to introduce them. “Christian, this is my mom.”

Christian manages a small, fake smile and says, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He wants to be polite but he can’t quite bring himself to look her in the eye, can’t bear to see that parental concern and disappointment. And his hands are too busy to shake her hand.

She doesn’t seem put off, though, as she bends over at the waist and says, “And who are these two?”

He’s roused a little more by the interest in the kids. “This is Liz, and Daniel.”

“My mom’s gonna stay with them,” Steve puts in. Despite that Christian’s head pops up with relief and surprise, Steve thinks that he probably should have let his mom handle it when the little girls starts wailing and clutching at Christian’s loose t-shirt.

Christian’s heart plummets at Liz’s distress and he doesn’t think that he could possibly feel lower than he does in that moment. As his hand moves to soothe her, he glances over at Daniel and sees that the boy looks like he wants to crawl over the arm rest to cling to something more than Christian’s arm.

But then Daniel looks up at him with big brown eyes and asks, “You’re hiding too?”

And Christian doesn’t want to tell the boy yes, not this boy who already knows too much of the horrors of the world. Christian wants to lie and tell this boy that things will always be ok, that adults always know what to do. But he can’t lie, not to Daniel, not after everything, and he selfishly wants Daniel to understand why he has to leave.

“Yes,” he says and Daniel nods because he understands and then the boy begins trying to detach his sister. It takes awhile perhaps because Christian is not helping as much as he could, and he can feel Steve and his mom watching, watching but not helping which he’s grateful for.

Eventually, though, Liz is sitting in Daniel’s lap and they both look so damn wretched that Christian doesn’t think that he can leave. Steve is there, though, touching his shoulder in what he supposes is encouragement. Christian stands and Steve’s mom immediately takes his seat. But the kids aren’t looking at her as she tries to get their attention. They’re watching him as he leaves.

Steve puts a supportive arm loose around his shoulders as he finally turns away, but Christian shrugs the gesture off. He can’t handle comfort, doesn’t deserve it. He does however, allow Steve to awkwardly herd him towards the car. It’s strange, climbing into the passenger seat after all this time on the streets, but Christian knew as soon as he stood up that there was no way that he was going to be able to make it all the way back to the park, to his safe place.

Steve watches as Christian seemingly melts into the comfortable seat of his Volvo. He had been counting on Christian’s exhaustion to leave him docile after the rush of adrenaline. Christian doesn’t even notice they’re not heading toward the park until they’ve turned onto the first neighborhood street.

Rousing himself with a grimace of protesting muscles, Christian says roughly, “Where are we going?”

“To my house,” Steve says simply. He licks his lips and tries to explain when Christian glares at him. “Just…just please. You’re exhausted, and who knows if that guy is still out there.” When Christian’s glare doesn’t lessen, he tries another tactic. “Don’t you want to know what happens? If Mary’s gonna be ok?”

Christian practically deflates, looking exhausted and vulnerable and hurt and petulant. And Steve is suddenly aware that he’s crossed that line where he can’t be at all rational about what’s going on. That this guy, this teen who had at first been aggressive and defensive and obnoxious is loved by little kids, cares about them over his own safety is amazing. It’s almost too much to believe, too much to take in that even though Christian has nothing, he still cares for others. Steve thinks his heart can’t possibly swell any more.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian’s practically shaking as he enters the front door behind the hippie. He wonders how something so ordinary can be so frightening. Steve’s house is like millions of others, a living room with couch and tv and coffeetable, kitchen with a table and chairs, closed doors, a little clutter, nothing to get upset about. It’s familiar and yet so foreign that Christian feels completely out of place, feels too dirty to touch anything.

Steve’s not surprised to see Christian visibly upset at entering the house. The signs are pointing to the idea that Christian once had a home and ran away. How else did Christian learn the manners that he used with Steve’s mom? The question is still who or what is he running from?

Steve wants to reach a hand out to the other teen again but he doesn’t want to force anything that Christian is uncomfortable with so he doesn’t, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Are you hungry? I could make something or we could just have a snack…?”

Christian just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to intrude, doesn’t want to take anything more from Steve when he already owes the other teen so much for helping him. Besides, his stomach couldn’t hold anything in right now anyhow.

Nodding, Steve feels at a loss. His big plan was to get Christian into the house, to take the opportunity to take care of the guy a little. He just doesn’t know how to actually accomplish that.

“Come on,” he says, leading them into the guest bedroom that like Steve’s room has its own bathroom. He leads Christian to the bathroom door. “There are towels and shampoo and stuff inside and I’ll…let me get you some night clothes.”

Christian is still standing there looking lost when Steve returns with a pair of sweatpants and another t-shirt, too lost to fight perhaps. “Listen, just at least stay the night. Take a shower, sleep, and tomorrow we’ll have breakfast and my mom will tell us what happened at the hospital.”

Steve wants at least that, wants that little bit of time to have Christian near him, to get to know more about this infuriatingly wonderful guy that he may be falling too hard for. He knows he’s being selfish more than anything else. Maybe this will just makes things worse for Christian but he wants to be near the guy for just a little while longer.

He waits for Christian’s nod before retreating to his own bedroom, to his own shower and bed.

Christian moves numbly into the bathroom with the clothes in his hands. He’s too tired and off-balance to protest even though he doesn’t want to be here. His hand trembles as he reaches for the knob to turn on the water. Maybe he cries a little at the initial feel of hot water on his sore, exhausted muscles, at the amazing and long missed feel of a shower, but the tears are lost in the shower of water. The shampoo is a brand he doesn’t recognize, something fruity that reminds him that this isn’t his, that he doesn’t belong here, that he’s taking something he doesn’t deserve. But the bar of soap is blue and white swirls and smells like rain, just like the kind his mama used to buy. He wonders if she still does.

He hasn’t missed home, missed his mama and his sister and his Dad like this in a long time, since the beginning. It feels like he’ll walk out of the shower and find his old room, open the door and see his mama there. But he was too scared to return, too scared to face everything that he had left behind because it wouldn’t be the happy homecoming, there would be anger and humiliation and blame.  
He just wants to be cared for, cared about for a minute. He can’t help it when his thoughts turn to Jeff, to the way Jeff was always there for him, to the way Jeff would comfort and console him, to the feel of huge hands spreading him open.

Climbing out of the shower and into the clothes, clothes that smell clean and nothing like what he’s grown used to, Christian just wants to give something to Steve in return for his kindness, wants to show the other teen how appreciative he is. He wants to give Steve a little affection.

Steve steps out of the shower and gets into his own sweats and t-shirt before climbing into bed. He can’t sleep though, doesn’t even try. He can’t possibly imagine what Christian is feeling right now, but tries to imagine what his house would look like compared to the streets, to that tent city in the park.

He’s not even surprised when his door opens. It’s not surprising that Christian can’t sleep either and Christian must have seen the light on. Getting out of bed, Steve feels like he’s drawn to Christian, to the lost vulnerability, the steeled strength, the tentative hope, and even the resignation that all play in those blues eyes.

Christian moves forward as Steve approaches. Not wasting any time, he reaches out a hand to curl around the back of the blonde’s neck, pulling Steve into a kiss. It’s a little questioning, but Christian is confidently taking the lead as he turns them to push Steve into the wall beside the door. It’s nothing like any kiss that Steve has ever had. It’s better as Christian’s full lips move over his in gentle passion and Christian’s tongue sweeps through Steve’s mouth.

Confident in his abilities in this if nothing else, Christian trails wet kisses over to Steve’s earlobe. His hot breath causes the other teen to shiver, as he whispers, “I wanna make you feel good, let me,” before he takes the lobe and silver earring into his mouth, sucking lightly and laving it with his tongue. His hands push up underneath Steve’s t-shirt even as his mouth moves down to nip the sensitive skin underneath.

Steve’s mouth falls open on a soft moan and his hands suddenly come into action grabbing at Christian’s back. Jesus Christ, it feels good. This isn’t exactly what he had planned but he wants Christian and he likes Christian and he feels comfortable with Christian despite everything. It feels right as Christian pulls off his t-shirt, hands seemingly knowing just where to touch to have Steve moaning again.

Christian’s efforts stop for a moment as Steve attempts to pull off Christian’s own shirt. He hesitates for just a second before raising his arms, unable to deny Steve. It’s been a long time since he was naked for this, and though he’s comfortable giving Steve pleasure, having Steve’s hands on his bare chest and back has his skin crawling. But he has plenty of experience shaking off those feelings and he redoubles his efforts on Steve’s chest.

His thumbs drift purposefully over Steve’s nipples, a dark rose in Steve’s pale chest, before his hands slide around the small of Steve’s back, pulling Steve off the wall and into him. Steve lifts a hand to cradle his cheek that has Christian flinching away, but he covers by turning them around and pushing Steve gently down on the bed. With practiced ease, Christian pulls Steve’s sweatpants over the other teen’s erection, pulling off both pants and boxers in one smooth move. Standing up, Christian knows that he has to remove his own pants for the next part of this.

Steve feels his brain stutter as he lies on the bed and watches Christian peel off the loose sweatpants. He’s glad that Christian is taking the lead as his brain is only saying, ‘Beautiful’. Then Christian is putting his knee on the bed between thighs Steve doesn’t remember spreading. Christian is the one that says, “Beautiful, Steve, you’re so beautiful, so good,” before those plush lips are back on Steve’s skin.

Steve’s thighs and lips part without thought as Christian situates him on the pillows with firm hands while lips and tongue and teeth tease his nipple. He can’t think, simply feels, feels his body arching up into the stimulation, feels soft tan skin underneath his fingers as they wander over Christian, feels his hips moving desperately. His fingers sink into Christian’s ass a little when the other teen pulls away.

Pride overrides the sense of his shame when Christian sits back to look at how affected Steve is. It’s enough, it’s enough for him to give this to Steve who has been so sweet and caring, so nice to him. Christian spits in his palm twice before rubbing it along Steve’s length.

It isn’t until Christian lets go of Steve’s dick and reaches behind himself that Steve catches on to what Christian is doing. “Wait,” he sputters, trying to sit up without success, before figuring out to pull Christian down on top of him and roll the other teen over so that Steve can reach the bedside drawer. He pulls out the bottle of lube and condom that he had long ago bought when he thought it was Misha he’d be experiencing this with.

Thoughts of Misha don’t make him feel guilty at all right then, because this is as perfect a first time as Steve can imagine. Christian is so amazing, so much more than Steve would ever have thought to hope for. Surreptitiously, Steve checks the expiration date on the condom before he places it on the bed.

Christian has gotten comfy, no more uncomfortable now that Steve wants to be on top. It’s certainly the position he has most experience with, being on the bottom, underneath someone. He tilts his hips and spreads his thighs as Steve fumbles with the bottle of lube. It’s almost sweet that Steve is nervous.

Steve manages to crack open the plastic surrounding the bottle’s pop-top, but then spills half of it over his hand and the sheets. He figures too much is better than too little though, and leans down on his left hand placed beside Christian’s shoulder as he reaches between Christian’s cheeks. Steve is the one that bites his lip and whimpers as his finger sinks into the tight heat, Christian’s hands running soothing over his biceps.

“Good, more,” Christian murmurs in a rough voice that Steve likes the sound of. Steve likes the flush on Christian’s face, the panting breath and tiny groans and cries that erupt from full, pink, slick lips as Steve moves to two fingers, the way that Christian’s hips move minutely with Steve’s rhythm. He likes it best when his question fingers rub against Christian’s prostate, causing Christian to jerk, cry out sharply, and bear down.

Christian can’t help the way he reacts to the stimulation on his prostate, the way his hips jerk into Steve’s hand. He’s as conflicted about that spot now as when Jeff first touched it. The pleasure is undeniable and makes him forget what’s happening, but it makes him feel helpless and out of control.

“Come on,” Christian says as soon as he has breath again. He grabs the condom and is ripping it open before Steve has even pulled his fingers out. Steve’s cock is flushed pink and jumps in his hands when he rolls the condom on.

Christian pulls at Steve’s sides as he lies back down but Steve seems just as eager, positioning his cock as Christian rolls his knees into his chest.

“Jesus fuck,” Steve moans as the head pops in. He finds himself curling forward, leaning on top of Christian to rest his forehand on a tan shoulder, not noticing how Christian turns his face away from the intimate touch. It’s Christian’s hands on his back that force him to slide further into Christian’s tight heat.

Slowly Steve set up a rhythm, enjoying too much the feel of Christian’s bare skin sliding against his own. He turns his face into the soft skin of Christian’s neck, sighs wetly into it when he feels Christian’s legs wrap around his waist.

Christian tilts his head back as he feels teeth nipping along his jaw. “You’re doing so good…you’re so beautiful, Steve.” He wants this to be good for Steve, but he can’t help pulling Steve in hard on the next thrust. He wants to cum, wants Steve to cum…

Getting more up on his elbows for deeper penetration, Steve begins thrusting harder in response to Christian’s unspoken challenge. God, he’s gonna cum already, particularly as he watches Christian’s tan hand reaching for his thick purple cock. Snapping his hips harder, Steve tosses his hair out of his face so he can see.

Christian comes with broken little, “oh, oh, OH,” noises even as Steve’s thrusts are rocking his whole body on the bed. A moment later, Steve’s coming himself with a long, drawn-out moan and grinding his hips into Christian’s ass even as he drops onto his elbows in exhaustion.

Their chests are both sweat-slicked and heaving against each other for a moment, before Steve pushes himself up with a groan as he grabs the condom and pulls out. His legs feel weak as he heads to the bathroom with the used condom, but he can’t keep the smile off his face.

He returns with a damp washcloth to see Christian sitting up on the side of his bed, looking uncomfortable. “Hey,” he says soothingly handing the washcloth to Christian who takes it with a sheepish expression.

Christian feels a little embarrassed now, now that he’s shown his true colors. Jeff used to like to cuddle afterwards, but Christian  
hasn’t done that since he left home. He admits to himself that he Steve to hold him, wants to be stroked, comforted now that he’s performed, even if it’s a lie, even if it’s just because he let Steve fuck him.

Steve takes the cloth away when Christian has wiped his stomach and then he settles in the bed behind Christian and pulls the other teen to lie down beside him. “Stay,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around Christian’s thin body.

Slowly, Christian relaxes in the hold, succumbing to the illusion of being loved and cared for with no ulterior motive. It won’t last, he knows, the hippie is probably just buttering him up to have another go at his ass, but it feels good all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thought that the hard part was getting Christian into his house....

[](http://s567.photobucket.com/albums/ss114/Melodious329/?action=view&current=melodious02.jpg)

** Jeff’s hands are huge on Chris’s ten year old face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. Chris looks up into Jeff’s dark eyes, dark like his father’s were. But Jeff looks at him in a way his father never did.

Chris is stiff as those big hands wrap around his ribs to lay his naked body down on the bed. He can’t help the urge to squirm away as Jeff’s lips crush against his own, at the slimy sensation of Jeff’s lips trailing over to his earlobe, but Jeff’s hands are immovable. He jerks and cries out as Jeff’s fingers pinch and pull at the tiny buds of his nipples, the sensation sharp and painful.

“Shhh, Chris,” Jeff’s smoky voice whispers. “I want to make you feel good, just let me make you feel good…”

Jeff’s eyes and hands stroke down over Chris’s smooth belly to his soft penis. Cupping Chris’s penis and balls in his big hand, Jeff strokes his thumbs over the vulnerable flesh even as Chris’s legs jerk in a vain attempt to close.

He hates it when Jeff just looks at him down there, but all too soon Jeff is grabbing a tiny calf, pulling one of Chris’s legs up and out to expose him even more. Chris knows what’s coming and his breathing goes fast and panicked, his tiny fingers ineffectually digging into the thick muscles of Jeff’s chest.

Jeff’s on top of him now, leaning his much larger body over him and Chris feels smothered, like he can’t breathe with Jeff’s chest right on top of his face, Jeff’s muscular arms caging him in on both sides and blocking out all the light. He’s trapped and helpless, whining and whimpering in fear at the first touch of Jeff’s penis to his exposed butthole.**

Christian wakes to sunlight and a soft bed and arms tight around him. For a second, he’s certain that it’s Jeff holding him, that the nightmare is real, but the body behind him is too small to be Jeff. Steve is only slightly bigger than himself and they’re the same height.

Still, he feels a little trapped by the other teen. Last night it had felt good to have Steve hold him, but this morning, Christian feels very aware of his nakedness, ashamed of it. After sex, Christian always has that same feeling of wrong and dirty that he had always felt with Jeff, like Jeff had put something dirty inside him that wouldn’t come out. He wonders if Steve will want to fuck again as soon as he wakes or maybe…

Steve wakes as Christian shifts position within the circle of his arms. He’s unused to having anyone in bed with him, and it takes him a second to figure out why there’s movement and warmth next to him. As soon as he realizes it’s Christian, though, he can’t help squeezing the other teen a little tighter in affection. The feel of Christian in his arms is even better now, without the rush and need of the night before, there’s only the length of Christian’s warm, silky skin against his own.

Burying his nose in the nape of Christian’s neck, Steve breathes in and smiles at the scent of his soap and shampoo on the other teen. He definitely doesn’t regret losing his virginity last night. It was perfect for him, hot and sweet and not as fumbling as he pictured his first time in his head. But even better than Christian naked and willing beneath him was that Steve was also able to show affection and love to Christian. Finally, Christian isn’t pushing him away. Finally, Christian is accepting Steve’s comfort. It’s so perfect, Steve is pretty sure he never wants to get out of bed, never wants to let Christian go.

Shifting a little to get more comfy, Steve hisses as his morning wood rubs against the soft flesh of Christian’s hip. Jesus Christ. Yep, Steve thinks, bed is exactly where he’d like to stay. He’s thinking about a morning kiss and maybe a few other things when he realizes that the noises he’s hearing are the sound of his mom moving around in the kitchen. Not cool.

Christian is lying stiffly, waiting for Steve to push him face first into the mattress and roll on top of him when, instead, Steve rolls away. He doesn’t exactly want to encourage anything, but can’t help rolling over himself to figure out what the problem is. Lying on his back, Christian forces himself to relax and let his legs fall open. But Steve isn’t looking at him, is instead rubbing his hands over his face.

Fuck, Steve thinks. If his mom is in the kitchen then there’s no way that she doesn’t already know that Christian is in Steve’s bedroom. Not only is the situation just plain embarrassing, but despite his mom’s acceptance of Steve’s feelings for Christian, he knows she’s not gonna be happy about them sleeping together.

Dropping his hands from his face, he glances sideways at Christian and actually chokes at what he sees. Christian is lying there with legs spread, cock lying limp against his thigh and the sheet tangled around his ankles like some debauched angel, pretty much inviting Steve to climb on top even though Steve’s mom is right outside the door. He coughs a little to breathe normally again. Now is not the time to start anything but he has to touch, has to reassure himself that Christian is really there and will still let him touch, and so he pushes up on one forearm so that he can lean over the other teen.

Desperately trying to ignore the fact that Christian is naked and gorgeous, Steve palms Christian’s cheek and presses his lips to Christian’s plush mouth. His kiss isn’t nearly as great as Christian’s, he knows he’s too sloppy, too inexperienced, but he needs the connection anyway. It’s with real effort that Steve sits up, but even then, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Christian. With that little bit of distance, though, Steve can see that Christian is not only sexy spread out like that but also thin, much too thin.

Christian watches Steve with confusion and irritation, suspicion. He feels a fleeting impulse to cover himself but doesn’t. He knows better than that. He simply waits as Steve stands unself-consciously naked, saying “My mom’s here,” over his shoulder as he opens a drawer in his bureau.

Startled, Christian sits up with a jerk at Steve’s words, his hands moving immediately to cover his soft dick. He doesn’t want any mother to see him like this, to see what he is.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Steve says, seeing Christian’s embarrassed reaction. “She’s cool.” Yeah, she’ll be cool to Christian, because Steve knows it won’t be Christian that she’ll be mad at.

But Christian doesn’t relax, and, instead, hunches his bony shoulders more as Steve pulls on a pair of boxers and then lays a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and t-shirt on the bed next to where Christian sits. Christian knows as well as Steve does that Steve’s mom will know they had sex as soon as they leave this room. God, he’s such an idiot, Christian thinks. He can imagine too well the disappointed, judgmental face she’ll make at him, the mirror of what his own mama would look like.

“I should put my own clothes back on,” Christian says without looking at Steve. He doesn’t want to take anything else from Steve, even though from the looks of things, one set of clothes probably wouldn’t be missed.

Suppressing the urge to laugh, Steve replies, “Well, you’ll have to put these on at least to go get yours from the guest room.”

Christian scowls as he pulls on the clothes stiffly, embarrassed that he’d forgotten where he had left his own clothes. His mood isn’t improved as the soreness of his muscles becomes glaring apparently, his legs like lead weights that he can barely straighten. It’s just another reminder of how much he’s lost.

He’s yanking up the sweatpants, even as Steve awkwardly asks, “Did you want to take another shower first?” It’s the closest he’s come to talking about the sex.

Christian just wants to get out of here, get away from Steve’s concern. He shakes his head, but Steve continues, “I’ve got an extra toothbrush in the bathroom…?”

Steve trails off at the frustrated set to Christian’s jaw, but, in the end, Christian nods and forces his stiff muscles to stand and follow Steve into the bathroom. Like with Jeff, it’s easier to just give in when there’s no other way out.

In the bathroom though, Christian’s blue eyes don’t look at either himself or Steve in the mirror as they brush their teeth. He feels so ashamed in that moment, like he tainted Steve and his perfect life and he knows that Steve’s mom is going to see him for the filthy whore he is, not good enough to touch her son. He can’t stand the thought of walking out of this room, but he knows there’s no other choice, no other way out of here.

Frankly neither boy wants to leave the room and both draw out brushing their teeth in the bathroom, but for Steve, it’s the sight of Christian swamped in his clothes that motivates Steve to open the door, if only to get the other teen breakfast. It reminds him of the real reason he wanted Christian in his house, to take care of the homeless teen.

“C’mon, breakfast,” Steve says as he moves sheepishly into the kitchen with Christian following behind, obviously feeling the effects of his exertion last night. Steve wants to draw Christian into his side, rub away the tension in the other teen’s shoulders. But Christian only started to let Steve touch last night, so instead as Christian comes up beside him as they reach the table, Steve simply lifts a sympathetic hand to Christian’s shoulder, offering a tight squeeze.

It’s only then that Steve really focuses on his mother, who is not in fact looking at them. She’s at the stove making breakfast. However, if Steve had expected his mom to be making pancakes and bacon and other stuff similarly large and fattening, he is disappointed to only find her making scrambled eggs which she adds to plates with dry toast on them.

He’s about to say something about how Christian needs all the calories they can stuff in him when he notices a can of Ovaltine on the counter. He stops mid-breath, eyes narrowing as he realizes that they never buy Ovaltine. His mom must have gotten it late last night just for Christian. Steve understands the wisdom of his mom’s breakfast choices then, realizes that Christian’s stomach might rebel against more. She, instead, made the most nutritious breakfast that was simple.

Steve hasn’t figured out what to say by the time his mom turns around and places the plates and then mugs on the table. But she’s smiling at them like she hasn’t been up all night and says, “Morning, sweetie.” He pretty much adores his mom in that moment.

Christian, though, can’t look up into her face, his stomach is too busy turning over at the thought of sitting at this table with Steve’s mom, Steve whom he fucked last night, Steve who was nice to him like he deserved it. Christian feels again like he’s ruined everything. Steve’s mom will surely forbid Steve from seeing him anymore, from seeing the boy who beat up some man in the park, the boy who tainted her perfect son.

Then she speaks directly to him, “Good morning, Christian. Have a seat.”

Christian doesn’t want to have a seat. He wants to sink into the floor or run straight out the front door. But she’s inviting him and he doesn’t want to be rude by refusing her invitation. Not after everything she and Steve have done for him by helping Mary.

With sad eyes, Steve watches Christian take the offered seat, hunched in on himself like he could disappear if he made himself small enough. He’s relieved when Christian obediently picks up his fork when his mom tells them all to go ahead and eat before it gets cold. But Christian holds the fork too tightly, carefully picking at his eggs before lifting some to his lips. It’s obvious how uncomfortable Christian is, like he’s waiting to be reprimanded for any wrong move. Steve tries not to stare and make the situation worse. The whole thing is so awkward Steve could choke on his eggs.

Christian is just concentrating on getting down the food and keeping his eyes on his plate. He wants to ask about Mary and the kids, but he doubts that Steve’s mom will talk until they’re all finished. For now he’s just hoping that they’ll ignore him.

But concentrating on his food isn’t helping his anxiety. Scrambled eggs and toast are too familiar. For two years, eggs haven’t passed his lips, they’re not really something he could have bought at the gas station, but before then he had had them a lot. But it wasn’t his mama who cooked them for him. Before Dad’s death, his mama had made pancakes and sausage gravy, but those breakfasts had disappeared by the time he met Jeff. The only thing Jeff could make was scrambled eggs and toast. Jeff would always make them on those nights that Jeff couldn’t wait to get his hands on Christian, didn’t have time for fast food or a restaurant. Christian doesn’t want to eat them any more now than he did those nights and has to put down his fork after a couple of bites. But he picks up the mug of hot chocolate.

When Christian puts his fork down, Steve wants to pick it up and force-feed the other teen himself, but one look at his mom has him holding his tongue. It’s just so hard to have Christian here and still not be able to just fix things, fix that broken look in Christian’s eyes. And it hits him again how fantastic his mom’s Ovaltine choice is, since at least, Christian is still getting some nutrition.

“Well, if you’re finished eating, I know you’re desperate to hear about Mary,” Steve’s mom says and both boys’ heads jerk up at the sound. “She’s going to be fine, took a bump on the head and had to stay overnight for observation, but nothing more serious than that.” Christian swallows hard as Steve’s mom pauses. It’s great news that Mary wasn’t hurt more severely but that isn’t the only thing he’s worried about. There could still be bad news.

“Social Services came and the police. Mary decided not to press charges but did have a restraining order filed against her husband. The children were even allowed to stay with her in the hospital overnight and this morning, they were all supposed to be moved into a women’s shelter. She told me that she’d really like you both to visit so she can thank you personally.”

Christian has to look away because of the tears filling his eyes at his conflicting emotions. All he can do is focus on his blurry looking plate trying not to cry in front of these people he barely knows. Getting into the shelter is the best that he could have wanted for Mary and the kids, and he knows that they deserve it even if it means he’ll never see them again. They deserve something better than living on the streets with him.

Steve looks over at Christian, wanting to congratulate the other teen for saving Mary’s life, for saving two small children from the pain of growing up without a mother. The words stop in his throat, though, at seeing Christian leaning forward into his plate. Steve can’t see if Christian is crying but he can see a full lower lip red and wobbling. This anguish isn’t the reaction that he was expecting, and his hand reaches out to comfort again. This time though, Christian flinches away from the touch.

In looking over at his mom for a suggestion on what to do or say, he sees the clock over the oven. “Holy shit,” Steve suddenly says. He forgot that he’s supposed to work today, morning through lunch. Fuck.

“Steve,” his mom says warningly.

“I totally forgot about work today,” he says running a frustrated hand through messy hair. “I have to get dressed now to be there on time.”

It’s the opening that Christian has been waiting for as he lifts his head, trying to wipe his face furtively on his forearm. “I should get going, too…put my own clothes back on and…” He practically knocks his chair over as he forces his stiff legs to stand because he can feel Steve’s mom’s eyes on him though he’s deliberately not looking at her. Shit, he doesn’t even know what Steve’s last name is to thank Mrs. Whatever for the food.

Steve’s heart literally feels like it’s freezing his chest cavity as he watches Christian fall over himself in his attempt to get away from them. Steve knows that this isn’t easy for Christian, but he doesn’t understand why Christian still wants to leave. Not after last night.

Shooting his mom a look, Steve follows Christian’s hasty retreat into the guest bedroom, catching the door as Christian is flinging it shut. “Hey, you don’t…you don’t have to go yet. Stay, I mean, I’ll be back soon…”

Christian turns to huff reproachfully in Steve’s direction before speaking. “I need to go, I…I mean thanks, thanks for helping me and Mary…and the kids, but I…” He’s just miserable as he fumbles the words. He wants to leave so badly, just wants to go back to his safe place and be alone, but he knows he owes Steve for everything.

“Can’t you just stay til I get back? I just really wanted us to talk,” Steve says pitifully, reaching out a hand to lay on Christian’s shoulder like he’d do with any of his friends. He doesn’t have anything really to offer Christian to make the teen stay, Christian seems about as enamored of the food in Steve’s house as he was of the sandwich Steve brought him that time.

Swallowing at the touch, Christian knows what that kinda talking entails. He’s nodding in acquiescence before he even realizes it. But he figures that Steve was nice to him last night, like Jeff used to be so it won’t be any hardship or anything. It’s the least he can do and the only thing he has to give.

“Really?” Steve questions at Christian’s unexpected nod. “Great, I…I’ll just be gone a few hours and you can watch tv or play video games or chat with my mom and…just let me…I’ll go get dressed real quick.”

Steve has barely turned his back when Christian begins to regret his decision, particularly because he can see Steve’s mom cleaning up the kitchen. Waiting for Steve means staying in Steve’s house with Steve’s mom. He doesn’t know what to do and feels like he can’t say no, but it doesn’t matter because he’s barely had time to think when Steve is rushing out of his bedroom again.

Steve practically floats out of his room, high on the knowledge that Christian will be here when he gets back. It was so easy to get the other teen to agree, too, like Christian didn’t really want to go back to the streets. Steve knows that he’s getting through to Christian.

He’s planning on giving his mom a big hug as she waits for him at the front door and so is confused by her irritated expression. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with him,” she says in a voice that says she knows that he’d be lying if he did.  
Uh-oh, Steve thinks. He completely forgot that she was going to rip him a new one for that. He doesn’t even manage an answer before she’s huffing at him and speaking again. “We are going to discuss this later, but know that I’m disappointed. That boy is very fragile...”

“But he…”

“But you knew better. No matter what he did.”

Knowing that he’s not going to win this argument, particularly not by telling her how amazing last night was, he grabs his car keys. He gives Christian a wave before he leaves.

Warily, Christian steps out of the doorway of the guest bedroom. He can’t imagine what she thinks of him, a street-rat and a whore in her house, waiting for her son to get back just to get off one more time…he feels sick thinking about it.

In the end, he decides it’ll be better if he says something first. “T-thank you for everything, ma’am. You didn’t have to look out for Mary’s kids like that and I really appreciate it. And I’ll,” he has to stop and take a deep breath to steel himself before he looks into her eyes, blues eyes just like Steve’s. “I’ll be out of your hair by tonight. I don’t mean to be a bother, and I’m sure you don’t want me in your home, but I told Steve that I’d…that I’d wait for him.”

He finishes his little speech, not even noticing that he started wringing his hands half-way through. It’d be easier to just be offensive, be an ass like he was with Steve at the beginning, but this is someone’s mom…and she helped him when she didn’t have to. So he tries to be polite. Besides, he does deserve her disdain.

“Please, call me Sandy. Did you get enough to eat at breakfast?” she asks as she begins to clean the table.

Dumbfounded, he follows her into the kitchen area. “No, I’m…I can do the dishes if you want?”

“It’s fine sweetie. I’ve got it.”

“Ok,” he says. Then there’s only silence for a moment as Christian considers whether he should just retreat to Steve’s room or whether that would be too presumptuous.

Putting the dishes in the sink, he lifts his head as she speaks to him. “You know, you really did a good thing, Christian. Mary said that her husband would have killed her if you hadn’t stepped in, and then you got her to the hospital too. You saved her and her kids, really.”

Christian tries to snort mockingly, but it sticks in his throat. He wipes his cheek on his shoulder. Usually the rough fabric is enough to prevent the tears, but the fabric is soft this time and it only serves to emphasize how pathetic he is. He certainly didn’t save anyone. “S-Steve took her to the hospital.”

Her smile is so sad he can’t stand to see it. If she only knew how he disgraced and abandoned his own momma. She only says, “Yes, Steve did.” Then she pauses a moment before continuing, “You don’t need to help me. Steve has a tv and movies and video games and who knows what else in his room, if you want to hang out in there until lunch. Feel free to use the shower or take a nap or whatever.”  
She’s still smiling when he slinks off to hide. He even closes Steve’s door after a moment’s thought. Unfortunately that still leaves him in Steve’s bedroom. Christian feels like he’s in a minefield with no idea where the next mine is, just a constant sense of his own impending doom.

The most obvious mine is the bed sitting innocuously in the middle of the room, reminding him of how needy and slutty he is. The sheets are still pooled at the end and Christian is sure that if he were to get close to it that it would still smell like sex and Steve.

Christian doesn’t get close to it, which leaves him to explore the rest of Steve’s room. There’s the classic Beatles poster and a cool one of Jimi Hendrix, too. It’s mostly clean like the rest of the house, but definitely has some clutter stuffed into shelves. It feels lived in and comfortable like Steve himself.

There’s a desk with books on it and a bureau with pictures and jewelry strewn across it and a cabinet with a tv on it. The tv’s nice, obviously not from a garage sale or anything like that and there’s a VCR on top of it. The doors of the little cabinet are open and Christian can see what look like DVDs all piled in there. But when he picks up a box, it’s some kind of game.

Huffing, Christian puts the box back. He never had a tv in his room, couldn’t afford it, of course. He didn’t have any gaming system either. On the rare occasions that he’d hung out at David’s house, Christian had always refused to play David’s system, because he didn’t know how. David never said anything about it, they just did something else, watched a movie or threw a football outside.

Even when Christian had lived in a house with his mama and sister, his life had been so much different than this. Not just that Christian didn’t have fancy toys, but that his mama wasn’t waiting at home for him, wasn’t making his breakfast, didn’t walk him to the door anymore. Steve and his mom had an intimacy that Christian lost with his own momma when his Dad died. He knows, knows, that his momma still loved him, still wanted everything possible for him and Jenny, wanted him to be healthy and happy. He was the one who ruined it all.

His momma was only protecting him by not mentioning Dad, but it became an insurmountable obstacle between them. The brave face that she put on about having to work so hard only taught him to do the same no matter how much he wanted to tell someone about what was going on with Jeff. She was so stressed and overwrought all the time, how could he possibly have asked her for anything else? How could he have possibly told her that he had let Jeff do those things to him?

He looks briefly over the pictures of Steve with his parents, with his friends. Eventually, though, there’s nothing else to look at, and he picks up the tv’s remote. Unfortunately, the bed’s the only seat besides Steve’s desk chair. And if Christian finds himself holding Steve’s pillow in search of the other teen’s scent without the smell of sex, he doesn’t admit it even to himself.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve is flustered when he arrives at work. All he wants is to turn back around and go home, just curl up around Christian again and wish the world away. Add to it that his mom’s reprimand is still floating around in his mind. She just doesn’t get it, wasn’t there to see Christian last night, clinging and needy and demanding. What was he supposed to do, reject Christian? Tell Christian to go back to his room? Yeah, it was way too soon probably to be jumping into a relationship when he had just gotten Christian into his house, but what Christian had needed last night was comfort and affection and that’s what Steve had given him.

So, yeah, he’s really not looking forward to work, even with Jason. Steve rubs his hands over his face again and tucks his hair behind his ears.

Shit on a stick, he can’t believe that he saw Jason yesterday. So much has changed since then and, yes, he does know how much like a bad Hallmark movie that sounds. But it’s true. Since yesterday, Steve has seen a side to the world that he had never known about, never really seen that level of violence, of hate. And yet, even then, Steve had seen the best of humanity in Christian comforting two scared kids.

Right outside, Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle. If he didn’t want to tell his friends that Christian was homeless, he has no fucking idea what to tell them now. Jason is a good friend, but if he wants Christian to stick around, he can’t go around telling Christian’s secrets.

With a sigh, Steve forces himself to open the door. He’s surprised to find that he actually gets another minute’s reprieve because Jason is actually there before him for once, and he’s already finishing opening up.

But it isn’t long before Jason is hurrying over to him with a maniacal grin on his face. Ridiculously, it makes Steve feel like Jason already knows and Steve just barely resists the urge to duck his head and blush. But that’s more Christian’s thing.

“Dude, you should have told us the guy you met in the park was homeless?” is the first thing out of Jason’s mouth and Steve thinks that that’s exactly why he didn’t say anything.

“Why?” Steve retorts, slightly perturbed.

“Chad might not have been such an ass, for one,” Jason says with a laugh. But Steve’s not laughing, so after a moment, Jason sobers and admits, “Ok, Chad is always an ass, but we were just surprised, man. And then you just left. What happened?”

So many things happened last night, but, of course, Steve’s mind goes immediately to the vision of Christian spread out and writhing on his fingers. He can’t help the hitch in his breath then or the way his thoughts undoubtedly show all over his face.

“Steve, you dog!” Jason exclaims. “You fucked him! Where? In the park?”

Scowling at the idea that he ‘fucked’ Christian, and in the park no less, he says, “Christian is staying at my house right now.”

His excitement subdued again at the tone of Steve’s voice, Jason’s voice is serious as he asks, “Wow, your parents are taking him in?”

Steve shrugs, thinking that he’s not sure his Dad actually knows about all this, before saying, “Yeah.” Then he looks up at the door at the sound of the bell ringing to announce a customer coming in.

But it’s not a customer, it’s Jensen carrying Steve’s guitar and looking both angry and worried. They all tease Jensen that he’s the worst of mother hens, but they all love him for it. They love that Jensen cares that much about them.

There’s no question as to what Jensen is worried about as he strides forward on long legs and says, “Steve,” in that slightly disapproving voice. Ok, so Steve does feel bad about not telling Jensen about what was really going on. Jensen is the friend that Steve usually shares everything with and he knew that of anyone, Jensen would understand the situation. Not that Jason probably isn’t sympathetic, he’s just…more a person Steve would go to for a mood-lift than for real advice.

It’s just that Steve didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of getting to know Christian than it was just because Christian is homeless. And then Steve was trying to convince himself that he shouldn’t, didn’t have feelings for Christian that went beyond friendship. Steve never would have thought that anything would actually happen between Christian and him, never imagined that he’d ever get Christian in his house.

Steve shoots an apologetic look at Jason as Jensen approaches, and Jason is a great enough friend to say, “Fine, I’ll watch the desk while you two go have a pow-wow. I already got the good information anyway.”

Steve smiles gratefully at Jason and leads Jensen to the back room, but he hates feeling like he’s keeping secrets and excluding Jason. Now he feels like he is making a bigger deal out of it than it is. He doesn’t have too much time to agonize about it though as Jensen’s worry is impossible to put off.

Steve sits, stretching out in his seat and watches as Jensen sits on the edge of the little futon and leans his elbows on his knees. The tense posture is not a good sign for Steve. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jensen asks first.

Ouch, now Steve definitely feels guilty for not telling Jensen. Shrugging his shoulders, Steve answers softly, “I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I just wanted people to accept him as a person.”

Jensen nods in understanding though his expression is still a little betrayed, and Steve continues, “But it’s sorta become a big deal.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows at the admission, coaxing Steve into explaining without words. “Last night…things kinda hit the fan and now he’s at my house.”

“Really? How’d you convince your mom to do that?”

Steve laughs then, realizing how preposterous this whole thing was going to sound. “We ended up at the hospital last night…”

“What!” Jensen practically shouts.

“No, no, not like that. Christian is friends with this woman and her two kids, who’re also homeless. But this woman was running away from her abusive husband, and he found them last night.”

“Was Christian hurt?”

“No, not exactly. The guy was beating on his wife and Christian knocked him out, apparently.”

“Holy shit,” Jensen breathes.

“Yeah, Christian’s so skinny, I have no idea how he managed it. We took the woman to the hospital ‘cause she was unconscious. And we had her two kids…” Steve has to pause then and run a trembling hand through his hair. He can’t imagine how those kids had felt seeing their mother like that, seeing their father do that to her.

“The two kids were clinging to Christian like he was a surrogate parent to them or something, just depending on him,” Steve continues.

“Huh,” Jensen says considering. “Makes you wonder how much he took care of them on the streets. Makes you wonder how he managed to take care of them?”

“He doesn’t look like he took care of himself,” Steve added, shaking his head.

“So what happened?” Jensen prompts.

“Christian freaked out about Social Services coming, saying that he couldn’t go back. In the end, I convinced my mom to watch the kids at the hospital and took Christian home.”

“Geez, it’s like a soap opera.”

Steve managed a ghost of a smile and nodded. “But the woman’s gonna be fine and she and her kids are in a women’s shelter. So far the police aren’t looking for Christian or anything since she won’t press charges against her husband, and he’s nowhere to be found.”

“How did this whole thing get started?” Jensen asks.

“Huh?” Steve says ineloquently.

Jensen grins at Steve’s response and repeats, “I mean, how did you meet this guy and how did it get to the point that you wanted to take him home?”

Steve is silent for a moment with his mouth open because he honestly doesn’t know where to start. “He just was watching me play the guitar in the park every Sunday, and…I don’t know. I could tell he was homeless and wanted to do…something.” Steve shrugs.

“So you started it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think this would happen. At the beginning, he was so different, angry and defensive. First, I tried to give him a sandwich I had bought him and he was such a dick about it. Then he didn’t even want to give me his name.”

Jensen laughs a little and Steve scowls, knowing that Jensen and apparently everyone else thinks him naïve. “So he’s definitely running from something. And how’d you get to wanting in his pants? I know he’s pretty, but I know it’d take more than that for you to break up with Misha.”

Steve starts at the abrupt change in conversation and then blushes, he can feel the sudden heat in his face. “I don’t know, I mean he’s obviously…” Steve waves his hand about like that’s supposed to tell Jensen what he’s thinking that he can’t find the words for.

“Hot?” Jensen suggests with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes again. “But once we spent a little time together, I don’t know. It can be easy with him, y’know? He loves the same music, loves music, and when he smiles…and sings. And then last night, we…”

“You didn’t?” Jensen gasps looking mildly horrified.

Steve huffs. “Why does everyone react like that? Just because Christian is homeless doesn’t mean he’s not worthy or something…”

“Man, that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You don’t know how fucked up Christian is.”

“He’s not fucked up,” Steve replies petulantly. “He saved a woman’s life, took care of two little kids on the streets…”

“Exactly,” Jensen interrupts. “The streets aren’t exactly where happy memories are made, much less that you said he was freaked at the idea of being taken by Social Services…”

“And last night, he wanted it,” Steve says louder. “I didn’t start it.”

“So how was it?” Jensen asks.

“What?” Steve’s mind just can’t follow Jensen’s sometimes.

“I know having sex was a big deal to you, how was it?”

“It was…kinda perfect, really. He was gonna sleep in the guest bedroom, but then he came in my room and was all over me, like he needed it, needed me,” Steve finishes quietly. “And he let me…” Steve can’t finish that sentence, can’t tell Jensen how he let Steve roll him over, kneel between pale thighs, can’t get the words out to explain how Christian pulled him in, writhed beneath him.

“You topped?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah, that was Christian’s decision too. He was, Jesus, he was really into it.”

“So he’s had sex before. And he obviously knows how to fight, and he has some kinda protective feelings for these kids. You know anything else about him?”

Steve doesn’t know whether to be grateful or put out that Jensen is treating this like a puzzle. “He’s from Oklahoma and has the accent. He has Cherokee ancestry…and loves Lynyrd Skynyrd and Chris Ledoux.”

Jensen is smiling at him and it looks an awful lot like the smiles that Jason and Steve himself give Jensen when he’s with Jared. But then Jensen’s expression sobers. “How is he handling being in your house?”

“He’s uncomfortable,” Steve admits. There’s not really a lot more to say than that. “He wanted to leave after hearing about Mary, but he agreed to stay when I asked him to.”

Jensen nods. “Listen, Steve, I know you really like him, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble, but I worry that you just don’t really know him.”

“He’s not using me for free food or anything,” Steve interjects.

“No, I don’t think so, but Steve, if he was abused or beaten and he’s lived on the streets with no one really caring for him, I just…he may not be on the same page you are. And that’s not his fault, but it’s something you need to take into account.”

Thinking over their past interactions, Steve says, “There is…Christian is kinda…sexy.”

Jensen lifts one eyebrow and smirks, “I know, you stud, you.”

Steve laughs despite himself, “No, I mean, this one time when we were in the park, Christian was too sexy to this stranger. I don’t know, like opening his legs when this guy was staring at him.”

Jensen’s face pretty much expresses how Steve feels, pity, dismay, and concern all war on his pretty features.

“Listen,” Jensen says, looking at his watch. “I’ve got to go, but…how long do you think he’ll be staying with you?”

“I have no idea. I convinced him to stay until I got back but past that…”

“Well, give me a call later and tell me what’s going on,” Jensen gives him a commanding look. “You know, if he stays maybe it would be good for me to come by, see for myself what his problems might be and give him a person to interact with that’s not in love with him.”

“Hey,” Steve says indignantly, but he knows it’s true. “Look, just…don’t analyze him or act like you know all this or anything, ok?”

“Dude,” Jensen says. “I’m not Chad.”

They both chuckle a little at that but it’s a little forced. It’s obvious that Jensen is still worried that Steve is in over his head and Steve is now even more worried about Christian and worrying about how to help Christian, worrying about whether everyone else is right and it was really stupid to have sex with Christian so soon.

Jason obviously senses that the tension is just as high after the pow-wow as before as he has a sympathetic, concerned look on his face too. Jensen leaves and Steve sits behind the desk, hoping that this shift will pass quickly when Jason says, “You know, you could still bring the guy over to play music or hang out or whatever sometime.”

Steve relaxes slightly at that. Yeah, not everyone will accept Christian as easily, but maybe Jensen is right, maybe Christian needs more support than just Steve. And Steve’s friends are really cool.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian’s tired but can’t seem to get to sleep. He’s just sitting against the headboard of Steve’s bed, hunched over Steve’s pillow when there’s a knock at the door. At first, he just sits there, assuming Steve or his mom will just come right in, but after a minute of silence, there’s another knock.

Confused, Christian lets go of the pillow and struggles off the bed, his muscles having stiffened up while he was sitting. Going over to open the door, it’s Steve’s mom, Sandy, and Christian has no idea why she didn’t just come in since it’s her house.

“Hey, it’s lunchtime,” she says brightly. “Food’s already on the table.”

Christian looks at the ground and releases his hand on the door to cross his arms over his chest. He can’t possibly take anything else from this poor woman, more kindness he doesn’t deserve. “It’s fine, ma’am. Breakfast was big for me so you don’t need to bother yourself.”

His own words don’t hit him until she’s looking at him with that pitying expression on her face again. That’s when he realizes he’s just emphasized how pathetic and homeless he is, which is pretty much the opposite of what he was going for.

Sighing at his own stupidity, Christian simply acquiesces when she says it’s no trouble and that it’s already made. Hunching in on himself as he always seems to do around Steve’s mom, Christian hobbles on stiff legs back to the kitchen and takes his seat from earlier.

In front of him is already a plate holding a bowl of soup and a half sandwich on it and next to it is a glass of orange juice. He can’t help shifting in his seat uncomfortably at her kindness, that she even thought to include him in her lunch preparation.

As she sits at the table, though, Christian wonders about Steve’s Dad. He can’t remember Steve ever actually mentioning a Dad and Steve’s mom hasn’t mentioned him either. It pains him to consider that maybe Steve’s Dad died too, maybe Steve still managed to have this wonderful life after the same tragedy that broke Christian’s world apart.

He’s just picking up the sandwich, gooey cheese with a thin slice of ham, when she says, “When would you like to go visit Mary and the kids, you think? Steve’s schedule at the record store is pretty easy to work around.”

Picking at the sandwich for a second before putting it back down on the plate, Christian glances up to see her face for just a second. He can’t tell what she’s really asking, surely she doesn’t think that he should stay involved in the lives of these kids. They’ve finally managed to get off the streets. They should just try to forget about everything that happened there, everyone. If Mary hadn’t been so desperate, he wouldn’t have gotten involved at all, wouldn’t have risked inadvertently teaching them to be as pitiful as he is. Maybe Steve’s mom just wants him to introduce Steve to the kids so Steve will spend his time helping them instead of him.

He figures that’s probably it and shrugs apathetically before saying, “Steve can just go by himself. I’m sure they’d be glad to see him. He really helped them out.” Who knows what would have happened if Steve had already gone, if Christian hadn’t caught the other teen. He doesn’t know that he could have kept Mary and the kids safe without Steve.

But she doesn’t bat an eyelash. “I’m sure it’s you they really want to see, Christian. And Steve would be glad to take you.”

Christian doesn’t look up this time, simply begins tearing his sandwich apart without putting any of it into his mouth. He feels so stupid. Those kids are far better off without him there to fuck them up. He should never have been allowed near them.

“You better actually eat some of that or I’ll think you don’t like my cooking,” Steve’s mom says gently teasing.

He can see that she said it with a smile, but he feels as chastised as he would if his own momma had said it. He doesn’t want to bother Steve’s mom anymore than he did his own mama, but he just can’t help screwing up all the time. He can’t help that he’s a useless slut. He had to leave home because of it and now he’s fucking up things for Steve. The food catches in his throat and he can’t eat anymore, no matter how much he wants to please Steve’s mom.

His eyes are tearing up again as he slides his empty hands back into his lap and wipes them nervously on his paper napkin. Before, he had all kinds of tricks for making sure he made weight for wrestling, but since he’s been on the streets, he’s gotten used to not eating.

But Steve’s mom doesn’t huff or sigh or berate him for wasting food. She simply sits there watching him a moment, before saying, “If you’re sure you’re done, you can go back to Steve’s room.”

Christian simply slinks away from the table.

**Chris is eleven now, with short spiky hair and sad blue eyes. He’s home early, freshly showered from wrestling practice and his momma is cooking dinner. It’s a treat he doesn’t get very often, a gift from Jeff that she’s off in time to make them dinner because the best tips are made at night. Jenny usually gets to see their momma every day before she takes Jenny to dance practice, but Chris always stays at school for both JV and Varsity practice.

He enters the house, loving the smell of home-cooked food, and sets his backpack and gym bag down. His momma and Jenny are already at the table, talking and laughing, and Chris is so outside of that happiness that he feels like an intruder, like he shouldn’t be there, be a part of that happiness.

“Hey sweetie,” his momma says, bright and cheerful that doesn’t mask the tiredness around her eyes.

He takes his seat and they hold hands around the small table and pray before serving the food. “How was your day,” his momma asks him.

The question catches him as it does every time she asks, so many things crawling up his throat, all the times that he just wanted to scream for his mommy to make it all better. But he can’t tell, can’t tell on Jeff, can’t tell his momma what he’s done.

“Fine,” he says concentrating on his plate, concentrating on eating enough food to make weight for the meet on Friday. He feels so awkward beside them, like he doesn’t know them, like they don’t know him.

“How’s wrestling? Mr. Morgan told me that you should do really well at the meet. I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you.”

Chris can’t help but look up then, even though he doesn’t want to see that pain in his momma’s blue eyes. He hates to be the cause of that pain. And out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jenny’s mouth tighten as she looks down at her plate, her expression disappointed and affronted like she blames him too.

Mechanically Chris swallows the rest of his meal and tries not to talk too much and make things worse.**  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve’s so worried by the time his shift ends at two, he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. And it doesn’t help that Jason’s half-smirking at him by the end, giving him a look that says Jason knows what kind of ants have gotten in Steve’s pants. Steve tells him to go fuck himself.

It’s just that Steve doesn’t know what to expect, doesn’t really know what to worry about. But after his conversation with Jensen, he is worried. He knows that Christian is uncomfortable, that being in Steve’s house is bringing up memories. Hell, just last night, Christian was terrified and traumatized and trying to hold it all together for those kids. Physically Christian’s probably still exhausted, but emotionally, Steve hasn’t a clue what Christian feels. Is Christian even excited to see him again?

Still, it’s not until he’s parking his car in the driveway that he begins to worry that Christian won’t even be there, that Christian will have just run away again. But surely his mom would have called him, right?

He’s pretty sure his mom would have called, but he can’t stop his eyes scanning everywhere for the other teen as soon as he gets a foot in the door. Even though he knows that Christian is most likely in one of the bedrooms.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t see Christian but his mom is ready and waiting for him. Bummer. She’s obviously baking as she’s holding the oven timer as she approaches him, and he’s hopeful that it means she’s baking for Christian and not to cheer Steve up when she tells him that Christian left. She motions him over to the couch and it takes him a second to realize that she’s trying to be far away from Steve’s room to have this conversation.

He sits down on the couch nervously because he has more than an inkling that this isn’t going to be a happy conversation either way. A cookie no longer makes everything alright like when he was a kid.

“Christian is in your bedroom,” she says wearily, as she sets the timer down on the coffee-table and sits next to him on the couch. “I thought he might like to watch tv and he seemed too uncomfortable out here with me.”

Oh, Steve thinks. That’s not a good sign. His mom is a sweetheart, everybody loves his mom. Sometimes his friends will call and just chat with her if he’s not home. And Christian apparently had no problem being around Mary, also a mother.

He doesn’t have anything to say so he just waits as his mom sighs like she’s been holding it in all day. “Steve, I’m not going to ask what you two did last night…”

“But he…” Steve interrupts but his mother just keeps talking over his interjection.

“But I know it wasn’t a good idea. If Christian is going to stay here…”

“Really?” Steve blurts out without thinking. “He can stay?”

She sighs again and nods. “Yes, for now, but Steve, you will not be sneaking into his room. I think Christian is a sweet boy, but he’s hurt and he’s scared, and I’m not completely convinced that this is the best place for him.”

“But he can stay?” Steve asks again.

“Yes, because right now, you seem to be the only person that he lets help him. Which is why you can’t have a relationship with him right now, Christian needs to focus on Christian.”

“But you said I’m helping him. I just wanted to comfort him…”

She holds up her hand like she does not want to know. “Relationships are about give and take and he can’t give right now. He needs to figure out what he wants and who he is before he can worry about loving someone.”

“I know,” Steve says quietly. He still doesn’t understand how he could have turned Christian away when the other teen was so desperate, but he does get it, that Christian needs friends right now, not a boyfriend.

“And he may not want to stay. He may need more help than we can give or he may even want to go back to his home. But right now, all we can give him is a safe place.”

Feeling subdued by the conversation, Steve still says, “Thanks, mom.”

“Ok,” she says then more brightly, signaling an end to the difficult talk. “Cookies still need a few more minutes. I’m worried about his eating.”

“Yeah, I think he considers eating our food charity,” Steve says getting up.

“I don’t think that’s the whole reason,” she says almost to herself as Steve is already moving toward his bedroom door.

Feeling her eyes on his back, Steve carefully slips into his bedroom, immediately closing the door behind him, the sound from the tv covering up the soft snick of the door closing. He’s imagining the sight of Christian curled up on his bed as he was that morning, maybe curled around Steve’s pillow, peaceful and adorable in Steve’s too big sweats. But when he turns around from the door, it’s to see Christian standing right in front of him. Right in front of him and stalking closer.

Steve closes his eyes right before plush lips land on his own, gently parting them so that Christian’s tongue can lick in teasingly. Christian’s hands are underneath his shirt and his mouth has moved onto Steve’s jaw before Steve even remembers that his mom is in the next room.

“Holy shiii…” Christian’s thumbs are skating along his ribs and Christian’s mouth is nipping and licking his jaw, Christian’s body pressed up tight against him. He gets his hands on Christian’s chest but it takes a minute for him to remember to push them apart. “Whoa, my mom’s out there…”

Christian just gives this sexy smirk and dives back in to catch Steve’s lips again. Fuck it, Christian thinks, she already knows that he’s a whore who fucked in her house, he just wants to give Steve this and get out.

“I can be quiet,” he purrs when Steve pushes at him again. He’s sinking to his knees when Steve catches him with a hand under his arm. Stunned at the rejection, he stands again.

Angry at himself and burning with humiliation, Christian jerks his arm out of Steve’s grip and takes a step back. Steve is definitely turned on, his face flushed, his chest heaving, and his dick hard inside his jeans, but somehow Christian has managed to fuck up, again.

Swallowing hard, Christian says, “Whatever, man…All you had to say was…Fine, I’ll just go then.”

He’s reaching for the door handle that’s just beside Steve’s hip when Steve grabs him again. “What? Don’t go. I just got here. I thought we were gonna hang out…talk.”

Christian’s laugh isn’t funny, it’s biting and self-deprecating. “Well, you don’t seem to be in the mood, so…”

“What?” Steve says again, still confused. Then it clicks. “NO, no, I meant talk, like really just talk and hang out. Not that I don’t want to hang out with you naked, but that’s not all I want from you.”

Christian nods, resigned, but Steve can tell he doesn’t believe a word Steve is saying. Fuck, does Christian only want sex from him? Was Christian thinking that just because they had sex last night that he could pay Steve back with a blowjob?

“I should just go, anyway I mean, it’s,” Christian stops confused but his hand never leaves the door knob. “I should go.”

“Don’t, please,” Steve begs. “You waited for me to get home, you can stay with me a little while.”

Steve jerks off the wall and into Christian when there’s a knock at his door. Then they hear his mom’s voice, “Boys, I made some cookies if you want some.”

“Yeah, cookies,” Steve breathes, his heart still pounding. “We can eat some cookies and just watch tv, ok?”

And because Christian is stupid and because it’s Steve, Christian agrees. He doesn’t particularly want a cookie, but he feels like he doesn’t want to fight with Steve about it. Besides, this’ll probably be the last time they’re together.

But he just wants to leave, wants to be alone and safe again. Yeah, Steve helped him and they had sex, how much more is Christian supposed to do?

Still he follows as Steve leads them into the kitchen again. Steve’s mom is moving cookies from a baking sheet to a cooling rack and there are three cups of hot chocolate on the table again.

“How was the record store?” Steve’s mom asks by way of making conversation.

“Slow. Pretty typical for the early shift though,” Steve replies. He glances at Christian in an attempt to include the other teen.

“What’s your work schedule for the rest of the week? I was talking to Christian about when you two could go visit Mary and her kids,” she says casually.

“Oh, well,” Steve starts, but Christian quickly interrupts him.

“I really should be going, I don’t want to impose any more than I already have…”

“It’s no problem at all for you to stay here a few days, Christian,” she says, calmly. “I really think it’s for the best, anyway. No one has seen Mary’s husband since that night and there’s no telling if he’s looking for you or tipped off Child Services. Besides there will definitely be added security in the park now.”

Steve’s certain that his expression is dumbfounded as he stares at his mom. Is she…yes, she is, he thinks as she shoots a look at him. She’s purposefully trying to convince Christian to stay here. Then both of them are looking over at Christian shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Christian looks down at the table top, not wanting to argue with her, but not wanting to stay. “I’m sure…it’ll be…I’ll be fine,” Christian says finally. But…he can’t get picked up by the police. Surely staying here would be better than going back, wouldn’t it? He can leave at any time, and nothing would be as bad as having to face his own momma. “I mean…”

“Christian,” Steve cuts in. “You really want to take the chance that social services will find you?”

Embarrassed that Steve saw how scared he was at the hospital, Christian ducks his head again before softly saying, “No.” He doesn’t want to go back.

“I really think it’s for the best, Christian,” Steve’s mom says gently. “You can stay here for a while and we’ll just see what happens, ok?”

Dumbly, Christian nods, instinctively following her instructions.

“The guest bedroom is yours for as long as you need it,” she says with a smile that Steve returns even if Christian is looking at the grain of the wooden table. “I think there are already toiletries in that bathroom…” she pauses, looking to Steve for confirmation before continuing. “But you’ll need to borrow some of Steve’s clothes for a while. Steve, can you get Christian settled in? The cookies should be cool in a minute.”

Steve nods eagerly and stands immediately, waiting for Christian to stand before leading the way to his bedroom. He goes to his bureau immediately thinking of what Christian will need, boxers, jeans, another pair of sweats…

Christian feels itchy in his own skin as he stands behind Steve. What is he supposed to do now? Just hang out with Steve and his mama, like he hung out with Jeff? Steve gives him food and shelter and clothes so Christian will spread his legs? He left that behind in Oklahoma, he doesn’t need Steve’s fancy clothes and food and a bed.

But he’s trapped. This is why he shouldn’t have gotten involved, shouldn’t have cared. He got himself into this for Mary and the kids, and he can’t regret helping them.

“Hey, you like red or blue?” Steve asks spinning around with two shirts in his hands.

He’s surprised by the surly expression on Christian’s face, blue eyes sharp and full lips tight with anger. He watches Christian deliberately cross his arms.

“Who the fuck cares? I don’t need your clothes. I can just wash mine.”

“You’re going to wash them every day?” Steve says without thinking, but he realizes his mistake as Christian cuts his gaze away. On the streets, Christian only had old ragged clothes and certainly wasn’t washing them every day, if at all. And here Steve is, thinking that he can just give Christian clothes like he thought he could just give Christian that sandwich, like giving him things would make everything better. Steve was just excited to have Christian here and safe and stuff.

“We can wash your clothes,” Steve tries again. “We’ll put these in your room and get them.”

“It’s not my room,” Christian says sharply, clearly not yelling in deference to Steve’s mom in the kitchen. “This is all your stuff, your house, your clothes, your…cookies…”

Christian trails off. Stupid, he thinks. Stupid to piss Steve off when he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Steve probably just doesn’t want to be near him in his hobo clothes. He could leave LA, find somewhere else, but all his stuff is back in the park and Christian remembers clearly how hard it was to get to LA from Oklahoma and he doesn’t want to go through that again either.

Steve doesn’t understand why Christian is angry again. “You can use or have whatever you need,” he says but he can tell by the way that Christian still doesn’t look at him again that Christian is a long way from feeling comfortable enough to get himself a snack.

Christian follows Steve when he picks up the clothes and walks over to the guest bedroom. He dealt with this shit once, he can do it again, only for a little while. He picks up his dirty clothes, folding them while Steve puts away the new ones. But Steve takes the clothes from him, saying that he’ll give them to his mom to wash.

Christian almost gives in to the urge to argue more, almost says that Steve’s mom doesn’t need to bother with them because he figured out how to use a washing machine a long time ago. For a second, he almost smiles thinking of when he would fight with Jenny about doing the laundry, but it passes quickly, subsumed by fear as he follows Steve back into the kitchen.

Steve’s mom has a plate of warm cookies waiting for them and Steve picks them up and shyly asks Christian, “You wanna just watch tv for a while?” At Christian’s faint nod, he leads them over to the couch in the living room.

Christian watches with trepidation as Steve sets the plate and mug on the coffee table and then sits down on one end of the couch right in front of the tv. They’re obviously not going to be doing anything on the living room couch with Steve’s mom in sight, so Christian doesn’t know whether he should sit on the other end of the couch away from Steve like he would have with David or whether Steve wants to sit right next to him. Jeff always liked to have him near in public and in private, they usually sat touching one another, Jeff stroking his arm or thigh.

But the choice is made when Steve settles himself and then pats the seat beside him. Steve can clearly see Christian’s confusion over the seating arrangement, and tries to help. He’s nervous to try though, because at this point he’s never sure when Christian is gonna bite his head off. The worst part is that after his little talk with Jensen, Steve admits that he has no idea what exactly is bothering Christian or how to fix it. He just knows that Christian is definitely uncomfortable staying here.

With that in mind, he grabs the remote and a couple of cookies. “Here, have a cookie. My mom’s cookies are incredible, seriously the best you’ve ever tasted.”

Christian takes the cookies from Steve’s hand without looking at Steve, like he’s moving on autopilot, like he just doesn’t care anymore. Not knowing what else to do, Steve tries to give Christian space, tries not to push and instead switches on the tv. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he sees Christian take a bite.

“See, aren’t they good?” Steve blurts out, floundering for anything to say that won’t be taken the wrong way, and feeling a little of his enthusiasm coming back to see Christian eat.

At least that gets a reaction. Christian lifts one eyebrow before glancing skeptically at Steve as if he’s trying to figure out what Steve is really talking about. “It’s good. My momma made better chocolate chip ones, though.”

Steve can’t help the way that his face twitches when Christian mentions his mom. “Yeah, peanut butter cookies are my favorite. Is your favorite chocolate chip, then?”

“Yeah,” Christian says faintly, before he looks down at the cookie still in his hand. It’s so weird to be here, sitting on this couch with Steve when he’s been sitting on the ground for two years, talking about their mama’s cookies when he’s eaten things out of dumpsters. His mama hadn’t even made cookies for a few years by the time that Christian left.

“Whaddya wanna watch?” Steve asks, finally glancing at the tv.

Christina just shrugs and takes a deliberate bite of cookie, staring blankly at the tv as Steve flips through the channels. He’s stiff at their closeness, stiff with the memory of what they did last night, ashamed of himself. The cookie is tasteless in his mouth suddenly as he thinks that Steve is just being nice to him because of the sex, that the cookie is just because Christian showed his true colors. It’s just like it was with Jeff, food and help and comfort if Christian is a good boy.

“There’s nothing really on,” Steve eventually admits sheepishly, not being able to guess what Christian would watch. “You wanna watch Law and Order? I’ve seen practically every episode, but it’s still good…”

Christian shrugs which is about all that Steve was expecting. He’s pleased when Christian leans over to pick his mug back up though. He takes it as a good sign and decides to take advantage of it.

“Hey, tomorrow, I don’t have to work until the evening…” Steve waits until Christian looks at him to continue. He wants to be able to see Christian’s emotions in his clear blue eyes. “Well, Jensen, my friend was gonna come over in the afternoon for a little while. He’d really like to meet you…”

Steve trails off again because Christian doesn’t look terribly happy at the idea. Not that he can blame Christian after what Chad did. He waits as Christian puts his mug back down.

But Christian is mostly confused. He’s…bad around people, just look at the way he treated Steve when they first met. Why would Steve want his friends to meet Christian, this pathetic charity case that Steve fucks? Even before, before he was homeless and visibly pathetic, Christian didn’t have many friends, not after his Dad died. He was popular and known around school, but never really friends. No one knew him.

**Chris is ten and it’s Friday and Middle School wrestling practice is just ending. He still works harder and takes fewer breaks, still wants to be the best, to make Jeff proud.

Now he’s getting off the mats to let Varsity have their turn, during which he’ll sit next to Jeff who’ll point out anything Chris can learn from. He helps his partner, Dustin, off the ground, slapping the other kid on the back with a smile and some playful commentary on Dustin’s wrestling ability. Dustin gives him a shove that has him almost falling into David who appears behind him.

“Hey,” David says, pushing him away with the hand that’s holding a water bottle. “Man, you really killed it out there. Where’d you learn those moves?”

Chris just smiles and shakes his head to shake off the praise, but David continues, used to Chris’s reaction to compliments. “Listen, wanna come over to my house tomorrow? We can watch a movie or you can show me those moves…?”

Chris smiles at the thought of hanging out, but pauses before responding. He always feels kinda awkward…

“Chris.”

Chris looks up at the sound of his name from Jeff’s lips. “Chris, I thought that we were going to work on your takedowns on Saturday?” Jeff is smiling but his hand is firm where it lands on Chris’s neck, pulling Chris into Jeff’s hip possessively. “If you get the moves down, I’ll even buy you a milkshake, how ‘bout it? Maybe we’ll get one for your sister when she gets back from dance practice, too.”

Looking back at David with a fake smile and a wave as he’s walked away, Chris sees an odd expression on David’s face.**

“I can just stay in your room or something,” Christian offers. “If it’s a problem I really can go back to the park, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“No,” Steve says. “I want Jensen to meet you. I think you’ll like him. He plays guitar too, and he’s really funny.”

Christian still doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why Steve would want him to meet his funny best friend, but he’s not really in a position to argue. And that’s a position he’s familiar with.

“Ok,” he says.

“Really?” Steve questions, worried now that it was that easy. “I mean, great.”

They sit there in silence for a while, ostensibly watching the tv though they both know that neither is actually watching. Steve is more interested in the nervous tattoo that Christian’s hand is beating against his thigh.

Steve can’t help reaching over to still that motion with his own hand. As much as he knows that it was a bad move to have sex with Christian so soon, and he knows that he needs to be Christian’s friend first, he feels more than friendship for the other teen. He can’t help wanting to touch Christian, give Christian a little physical affection. He tells himself affection is all it is.

Christian stills under Steve’s hand, tense and tight. Jeff didn’t like his fidgeting either. He can’t help noting the differences, as he looks down at Steve’s hand on top of his own. Steve’s hand is about the same size as Christian’s own, pale and long-fingered, nothing at all like Jeff’s. In a swift move, Steve changes his grip so that they’re holding hands rather than restraining. It’s odd and gentle.

But he supposes the differences don’t really matter, people only love him when he has sex with them and it’s stupid to think otherwise.

Steve can’t suppress the grin that teases at the edges of his lips as Christian lets him hold his hand. He keeps his eyes straight ahead though, making as if this is no big deal, just one friend offering comfort to another. But it’s another example of Christian letting him help.

It’s after the second episode that Christian starts to drift off, unable to resist the call of sleep any longer despite his nervous energy. Steve immediately notices the relaxing of Christian’s body beside him, but to his disappointment, Christian turns away from Steve as he drifts off, turning and almost cuddling into the back of the couch on the other side.

The way Christian’s body is twisted looks just painful, but after a moment, Christian slumps more, his body sliding down until he’s laying half on and half off the couch. Steve doesn’t know if that’s any better, but he feels too bad to wake Christian up.

Instead, Steve slips his hand from Christian’s and gingerly stands, taking the mugs and leftover cookies back to the kitchen where his mom is preparing dinner.

“He asleep?” she asks quietly.

Steve nods in response. “Looked like he needed it,” his mom continues.

“You probably need sleep too,” Steve adds with a pang of guilt.

Smiling a weary smile, she says, “Yeah, I do. But I’ll sleep tonight. How ‘bout you chop these vegetables though?”

The time passes, easy and comfortable as Steve works along his mom, a well-practiced routine. But he can’t help wondering again about Christian’s past, Christian’s family. His mom had made chocolate chip cookies because they were his favorite, so what happened?

Steve sighs because he knows it might be a long time before he finds out the answers to all these questions.

“Whatcha sighing for?” his mom’s voice intrudes on Steve’s thoughts.

“Just…Christian,” Steve finally says. His mom nods in understanding but Steve continues. “I know I shouldn’t have…last night. Christian isn’t…ready, but I just like him. I want to help him, but I also just…want to be with him.”

Now it’s his mom’s turn to sigh. “I know you’re worried for him, and I’m worried for him too. But I’m also worried about you, Steven. In the end, we will try to do what Christian needs or wants. I don’t want you getting so involved that you forget everything and everyone else in your life.”

Steve gives a frustrated huff at his mom’s concern, but says, “Well, Jensen wanted to come over tomorrow. You think that’d be ok right? That Christian should be around more than just us?”

“To be honest, I don’t know what Christian needs. Did you ask him?”

“Yeah, he said it was fine.” Steve shrugs himself.

“Well, I think Christian does eventually need more support than just the two of us, and let’s not forget your father, but, overall, Christian needs to feel safe in this house. We’ll just do the best we can.”

She finishes up dinner while Steve calls Jensen to give him the go-ahead. Steve hates to wake Christian up because he still feels that Christian needs sleep, sleep in a safe place, but he thinks that Christian probably needs food more.

Christian has now shifted mostly onto his stomach but his feet are still on the floor. One arm seems to be crushed beneath him while the other arm drags on the carpet. Steve thinks he’s pretty adorable even though Steve can’t see his face.

Reaching a hand out to shake Christian’s nearest shoulder, Steve says, “Christian, din-OW!”

Steve jerks back in pain before he realizes what happened. Christian jerked at being unexpectedly woken and clocked him right in the cheek.

“Don’t,” Christian says tightly before his eyes clear and he takes in his surroundings, the couch underneath. Then he sees Steve standing away from him holding his face. “Wha…did I-what happened?” he mumbles sitting up quickly in alarm despite his groaning muscles.

“It’s fine,” Steve says, swallowing the pain as best he can and, ok, so maybe he’s not all that good at it, but he tries.

“No, God, I’m so sorry, Steve,” Christian says as he stands up. He’s horrified that he hit someone without meaning to, that he hit Steve. He wants to check the damage and help somehow, but he doesn’t dare move. Steve probably doesn’t want to be touched by him. And he’d probably just makes things worse. Shit, Christian thinks.

“Really, it’s fine,” Steve says again, prodding his cheek for the last time before consciously putting his hands down. “I shouldn’t have startled you like that.” He should have known better, should have remembered that Christian has been sleeping in the park, in the open, probably having to protect himself.

Christian makes a self-deprecating snorting sound. Right, because Steve should expect people to hit him for waking them up. Despite that Steve is the one who was just attacked, he’s the first to move, while Christian still stands uselessly, unable to help or comfort.

But for Steve the pain in his face isn’t as bad as the pain in Christian’s expression as he stares at the carpet. He’s hesitant to touch Christian again, but he moves slowly, just holding his hands out for a moment before settling a hand on Christian’s shoulder.

“I should go,” Christian says abruptly.

“No, just…come to dinner,” Steve patiently replies as he attempts to lead Christian there.

“Steve? What’s going on?” Steve watches as Christian literally cringes at the sound of his mom’s voice.

Christian tries to stop, but they’re almost there and Steve gives Christian a push toward the table. Christian is eager to shrug off the controlling hand in front of Steve’s mom though.

“I shouldn’t…” Christian starts.

“Steve, your face,” Steve’s mom exclaims and she moves around the table to examine the red mark on Steve’s face.

Christian feels lower than dirt and has to actually stop his hands from rising to cover his face. God, he hurt Steve, who’s been nicer than Christian deserves, and now they’re going to kick him out. Now she can see that he’s worthless and dangerous and horrible. “I-I’m sorry,” he chokes out again and then tries to turn away, to make a dash for the door before he has to listen to them rejecting him.

He doesn’t manage to turn around though because Steve grabs his wrist, keeping him there. “It’s fine, mom. Christian was asleep.”

She hesitantly nods in understanding, obviously still concerned about her son, but not wanting to upset Christian further. “He flailed when I woke him,” Steve explains further. But he can see that she believes that as much as he himself does. People don’t normally strike out like that in their sleep. Not people who are used to being safe.

“Well, at least, let me get you an ice pack,” she says.

As she walks over to the freezer, Steve pulls on Christian’s arm again. He hates that Christian is refusing his attempts at physical affection because his words seem so inadequate. “It was just an accident, Christian. Not your fault.”

Christian goes into the chair when Steve pushes him, exhausted legs buckling easily. He doesn’t know why Steve is still being nice to him. Yeah they had sex, but surely he’s not worth all this, not worth helping like this, not when he’s homeless instead of the school’s star wrestler.

This is why he doesn’t want to be near people. Yeah, he’s good at sex, but he’s bad at everything else. He ran away because he didn’t want his momma to know about him, the real him, but here, it’s like he can’t do anything right, can’t seem to hide like he used to. He doesn’t want Steve and his mom to see him, to reject him. They don’t deserve to have to deal with him anymore than his own momma does.

Steve takes the ice pack she hands him and holds it to his face. He’d really rather not because it’s obstructing his view of Christian, but he knows his mom will have a fit if he doesn’t hold it there for a minute. He feels like the ass. He should have known better, known not to treat Christian like he would treat his other friends or Misha.

With his other eye, Steve can see his mom put the dishes on the table, chicken and vegetables and mashed potatoes, and a glass of what looks like apple juice. He didn’t even know they had juice.

He can’t eat while holding the ice pack so he gratefully puts it back down on the table despite his mom’s still worried glance. Yeah, his cheek is probably gonna bruise and that’s just great, so Christian can feel guilty every time he looks at Steve. Great.

Christian can’t even reach out to take the bowl when Steve passes him the vegetables. He just stares as Steve eventually just puts it down on the table. His thoughts are on an endless loop as he tells himself that he’s just a worthless slut who can’t do anything right. He may have run away from his own home, but he’s going to be kicked out of this one and he doesn’t think that he can take it.

Steve can’t eat either in the face of Christian’s misery and empty plate. He doesn’t know what to do and his face hurts.

They’re all just sitting there when Steve’s mom speaks, “Christian, did you just want to go to sleep? If you were tired enough to fall asleep on the couch, maybe you need more sleep rather than food.”

Nodding, because he can’t stand to be rude to this woman, Christian stands without really looking at anyone, and makes his way to the guest room. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve who stands and follows. He’d probably ruin sex at this point, he’s such a fuckup.

“Hey, feel free to shower and use whatever. You need anything else?” Steve babbles when what he really wants to know is if Christian is ok.

Christian shifts uncomfortably, not knowing what to do, how to act. He glances up at the red mark bright on Steve’s paler skin and looks away again.

“What about later?” Christian blurts out.

“Later?” Steve asks, genuinely confused.

“Yeah,” Christian says dropping his voice and raising one hand to trail teasingly down Steve’s forearm. “Later.”

Jesus Christ, Steve thinks. Christian doesn’t seem to get that Steve’s mom is right there. But Steve guesses he wouldn’t, not like Christian has had parents to watch over him in a while.

Christian’s desperate, desperate to get back on Steve’s good side, desperate to prove himself, desperate to get off so that he can release some of the tension constantly building inside. He moves into Steve’s space, placing a hand on Steve’s belly before running it up Steve’s chest.

Steve raises his hand to catch Christian’s, holds Christian’s hand against his chest for a minute as he opens and closes his mouth. Christian is so close, so tempting, so needy, but they can’t. What the hell does he say? How does he reject someone who seems to need him so much? Is Christian just horny? Is he that desperate for affection? Steve swallows, realizing now that sleeping with Christian may have been a really bad plan.

His smile is obviously fake but he can’t manage anything better as Steve says, “You need sleep. Just…Have a good night.” He squeezes Christian’s hand once before letting it drop and making his way back to the kitchen.

Solemnly he sits back in his seat at the table and he and his mom eat quietly for a few minutes. But the food is tasteless in his mouth, both because he’s more worried about Christian than the food and because his mom made it that way to be easier for Christian’s stomach. Not that Christian’s stomach saw a bite of it.

He doesn’t know what to make of Christian’s behavior, how Christian goes from seductive to angry to sullen and back to seductive again, that Christian seems to have a preoccupation with sex with Steve like that’ll fix whatever Christian is struggling with. He doesn’t know what to make of it, and he’s trying not to jump to conclusions because he would definitely be making leaps in conjecture, but his mind goes immediately from homeless to abused. Though, he can think of lots of things that could make a teen run away from home.

“Mom, do you think Christian was…” he finally breaks the silence. But, God, he can’t say it. Plus there’s the fact that no matter what the reason Christian left home, he’s been living on the streets where anything could have happened, where anyone could have…could have forced him or something.

His mom puts down her fork like she was expecting this. “I think his trust was abused by someone he cared about. More than that…I can’t say. Steve, I don’t think that he means not to trust you, he just can’t help it. I can only hope that his caring for Mary and her two kids shows that he’s still capable of trusting again.”

Steve just nods, oddly grateful that neither of them has said exactly how Christian might have been abused. He doesn’t want to think about the possibilities, definitely doesn’t want to name them. After finishing his dinner, he simply retreats to his own bedroom for a shower and to watch tv.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian wakes up in the night, confused and afraid. He ought to be used to it, it happens often enough, but for a moment, it’s all he can do to lie there on his side, curled in on himself in silent terror. He doesn’t really like to sleep.

But this time is more confusing because he’s in a bed with sheets and blankets and pillows and everything. It’s been a long time since he woke up to that.

Slowly, he rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling, a ceiling instead of branches and stars. He’s wearing Steve’s clothes, sleeping in Steve’s bed, eating Steve’s food…how did he get here, he wonders. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing here, doesn’t understand what Steve wants from him or why Steve’s mom is allowing this. His stomach still cramps remembering Steve’s repeated rejections, that powerless, desperate feeling.

He sits up slowly, feeling tired but awake and less sore than earlier. He’s used to waking up during the night, even before he ran away from home. He used to have nightmares about his Dad’s death, nightmares of watching it happen and not doing anything to stop it, nightmares of causing it, nightmares of dying himself. After meeting Jeff the nightmares changed, the panic and fear was the same, the sense of loss. He’d dream of Jeff leading him into rooms he didn’t want to go in, locking him in.

Used to be he’d eventually sit up, listening for Jenny, for his momma. More than once, he had thought about opening their doors just to make sure that they were there, that they were ok and sleeping peacefully. He’d been 15 when he ran away from home and he’d still wanted to crawl in bed with his momma, wanted her to hold him like she used to, wanted her to just comfort him even if he couldn’t tell her what was wrong, even if he didn’t deserve it.

She was so busy, so tired, so sad. He wanted to make her happy, make her proud of him, not make her ashamed of him acting like a five year old. He was supposed to be the best wrestler at his school, Mr. Morgan’s favorite, and he should act like it.

On the streets, there had been no one to impress, no reason not to just wallow. He tried to keep himself occupied, keep himself clean and mostly fed. But now, he doesn’t really have anything to keep himself from thinking too much.

For a while, it had been nice, to talk with Steve in the park. Yeah, he knew that the whole time, Steve just wanted to fuck him, but it was nice. But now that Steve is fucking him, now that Steve’s keeping him, he feels like everything’s tainted.

Christian likes Steve, wants Steve to like him, but Steve doesn’t like him except for sex. Because Christian isn’t worth anything else. And Steve will inevitably get tired of him, will eventually reject him for good.

Sighing Christian sits up and decides to take a shower, his third since coming into Steve’s house, but he doesn’t think Steve will care. He peels Steve’s clothes off, damp in places with cold sweat from his nightmare. Normally he avoids mirrors, has since he met Jeff, but now he takes a minute to lean on the counter and study his tired face.

What do people see when they look at him, he wonders. Is he pretty? Handsome? Can they tell just by looking, see that he’s worthless, a whore, a fuckup? Irritated with his own self-pitying, he gets into the blissful shower, wondering if he’ll get any more sleep tonight.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Christian’s awake and dressed in Steve’s jeans, just sitting on the bed long before Steve knocks on his door inviting him to breakfast. He’s like a pet waiting to be let out of his cage, dressed up in a new collar. Steve’s “Good morning” is answered with “How’s your face?”

Breakfast is just as miserable as the first day. Christian pushes his food around his plate and tries to be sneaky about staring at Steve’s bruised cheek. Even Steve’s mom can’t keep conversation alive at this table and Steve actually feels bad that he eats his food.

They end up on the couch, just waiting for Jensen basically, who had volunteered to pick up a pizza for their lunch. Jensen’s always considerate like that, thinking about the fact that Steve’s mom could use a break from cooking for her new houseguest.

Christian’s tired and surly from his mostly sleepless night, still sore as he shifts on the couch. He’s sitting further away from Steve today, not wanting Jensen to see him weak and willing. He doesn’t want to see Jensen at all, but Steve asked and Christian knows that when Jeff asked him to do something, it was really more compulsory than optional.

Christian’s wound so tight that by the time the doorbell rings, he practically falls off the couch. Steve on the other hand is relieved. He’s starting to think this is a bad idea, but if it’s going to blow up in his face, he just wants it to happen already.

Steve goes to answer the door, and he doesn’t know what to think about Christian following him. He’s just hopeful that Jensen can work his magic, but fearful that Jensen will be too sympathetic and offend Christian.

Christian keeps his distance as Steve opens the door, unsure what to do, what to say, where to stand. He just feels like such a total loser that he wants to a hole to open in the earth right underneath him that would swallow him down. He wonders if Jensen will notice these are Steve’s clothes, not that it matters since it’s obvious what’s going on.

Steve greets Jensen with a grateful smile and a ‘hey’ as he takes the pizza, but he’s barely gotten the greeting out when Jensen blurts, “What happened to your face?”

Fuck it, Steve thinks, scowling like Christian often does which just makes more confusion show on Jensen’s face. It’s not exactly Steve’s normal expression. “It’s nothing, dude,” he says turning away. He can see Christian ducking his face away from Jensen, trying to hide. “Just me being stupid.”

Jensen nods in acknowledgement of the deliberate look that Steve is giving him, receiving the message to ‘let it go’. He turns to Christian greeting him in turn, but all Christian gives him is a grunt.

But Christian’s watching Jensen, watching the easy way that Jensen enters Steve’s house, watches as Steve’s mom, Sandy Jensen calls her, lights up to see the other teen. He watches as she gives Jensen a hug, as Jensen sits down next to her at the table.

They all take their seats then. Steve’s mom has already set plates and glasses of juice on the table so she simply motions for Jensen to be the first to take a couple of slices, thanking him again for bringing it.

Christian takes a piece from the box at Steve’s urging, trying not to look at Steve’s mom. Now she’s asking about people whom Christian assumes are Jensen’s family. Jensen is beautiful and effortless, unlike Christian who feels tarnished and dark. Neither Steve nor his mom ever look that happy to see Christian, he’s just a burden to them just like he was to his own mama. Why the fuck is he here?

He picks up a slice from his plate just so he doesn’t draw any more attention to himself by not eating. Christian remembers eating pizza at David’s house with David’s mom and Dad and two older sisters, a perfect family. He liked David, liked David’s family, but he always felt uncomfortable there too, felt secretive and fake, smiling and laughing and punching David for saying something asinine. He never once invited David over to his own house, his mom was never home enough, but David just kept inviting him over, kept putting his arm around Christian’s shoulders, kept calling Christian his ‘boy’.

He was always confused about how to act, confused about what David wanted. Sometimes when they were alone, if David had like reached across Christian for the remote, Christian had thought…well, he’d assumed that David wanted to touch him, he’d wait for David to take it further, but David would just look at him funny if he spread his legs, David would just laugh it off. David did the same when Christian flinched at being touched when he was unaware.

He’s jealous of this guy, this Jensen who fits into Steve’s life so easily, who makes Steve laugh and smile. He doesn’t often wish that things were different, doesn’t wish for impossible things, but right now he wishes that Steve would look at him like that, look at him like a person.

Steve splits his attention between Jensen who is thankfully keeping up a conversation with his mom about her recipe blog, and Christian. He can see in Jensen’s expression that Jensen is aware of Christian as well, aware of how Christian seems withdrawn from the conversation and the people at the table, how Christian only manages most of one slice while Steve and Jensen reach for more.

When they’re done, Steve’s mom waves off all three offers of help and begins to clear away the plates while shooing them away from the table. Steve panics for a moment, thinking of what they’re going to do now when Jensen saves him.

“Hey, Christian, has Steve let you play his Xbox yet?” Jensen asks.

Christian just stares back, confused, but Steve jumps in, answering for him a little hesitantly. “No, he hasn’t played…”

But Jensen is already heading over to the tv, probably happy to have found something for them to do. Steve is happy Jensen’s come up with something too, but he’s hesitant about the competition aspect of playing video games.

“He probably thinks you’re going to beat him,” Jensen says, speaking directly to Christian like they’re friends, like they’re united against Steve.

Christian’s still confused though as he follows the two other teens back over to the couch. He’s never heard of ‘Xbox’ but he figures out it’s a video game when Jensen digs around in the cabinet underneath the tv, coming up with game controllers. Inwardly he curses. It’s a new game that he doesn’t know how to play. Not that he played video games before he was homeless, his mama certainly didn’t have money for them and Jeff was more interested in Christian doing other activities. Even David had rather thrown a football around or gone to the basketball courts.

Jensen untangles one controller and turns back to Christian. “How ‘bout it?” he asks holding it out to the other teen.

“How ‘bout not,” Christian answers derisively. He watches with satisfaction as the happy expression freezes on Jensen’s pretty face, though he does feel bad that Steve looks the same. “Video games are for guys that can’t actually play sports.”

Jensen snorts a laugh and recovers. “Well, I’m an inside kinda guy.”

“Figures,” Christian says under his breath, but plenty loud enough for Jensen to hear.

Steve feels like he’s watching a train wreck and says desperately, “My backyard’s too small to really…”

“You got a deck of cards?” Jensen interrupts, not looking at Steve as he keeps his attention squarely on Christian.

“Uhh, I think so,” Steve says. “Hey mom, do we have a deck of cards?”

“That ok with you, Chris?” Jensen asks.

“Whatever,” Christian says dismissively even as Steve is blurting out, “It’s Christian.”

Jensen shoots a look at Steve then even as Steve’s mom arrives with a deck of cards. She hands them to Steve with her purse already on her shoulder. “You boys mind if I go run a few errands?”

“No,” Steve says blankly, feeling like he’s a couple steps behind. He knows that she’s mostly asking after Christian, and he can only hope that Jensen and he have the situation covered. At least Jensen seems to know what he’s doing.

Jensen has already sat on the floor on one side of the coffee-table and Christian is moving to sit on the other side. Steve, of course, sits next to Christian close enough that their knees touch.

“What game, Christian?” Jensen asks.

“Rummy,” Christian answers, but he shoots a questioning look over at Steve. Steve nods and looks at Jensen who breaks into a grin. Thank God, they all know the game.

Jensen shuffles and then deals them all a hand. “You’re hidin’ it well, but that accent says you’re not from LA, either,” Christian says, thickening his own accent.

Jensen’s still grinning when he says, “Nope, I’m from outside Dallas originally.”

“I was born in Dallas,” Christian offers without thinking. “Steve probably told you I grew up mostly in Oklahoma, though. Guess shiny LA suits you better, huh?”

They all know it’s meant as an insult and Steve feels like he’s watching a pissing contest as he discards. Still he didn’t know that Christian was born in Dallas before Jensen got here, even though Jensen will probably never come back.

“Better than being roasted in that heat,” Jensen says. Christian nods absently in agreement as he takes his turn.

“So,” Jensen says, taking advantage of Christian’s momentary distraction. “We all really liked how you fixed Steve’s song, Christian. Do you write a lot of songs?”

Christian scowls at the fact that this guy knows something about him as intimate as his love of music. He isn’t sure what to do with the way that Jensen talks directly to him, intimately, like he actually cares despite Christian’s attempts to scare him off. It makes him uncomfortable to have someone’s attention like that again, like he’s not just Steve’s charity case. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Cool,” Jensen says, nonchalantly as he looks down at his cards. “Steve’s always bugging me about this lyric or that word, so I’m glad he can bug someone else now. Plus sounds like you’re better at it than I am. Steve doesn’t gush unless it’s warranted and he gushed over you.”

Steve knows that Jensen is trying to help but the praise seems to be making Christian even more uncomfortable. Lots of people don’t take praise well, Jensen is one of them, but Steve doesn’t want Christian to withdraw again. He’s too glad to see this defensiveness, feeling like it’s better than how subdued Christian has been.

“He said you play guitar, too,” Christian practically accuses.

“Yeah,” Jensen acknowledges nonchalantly despite Christian’s hostility. “Actually Steve helped me be decent at it, taught me a little on the piano, too.”

“Jensen’s not really as into the song writing, though,” Steve finally jumps into the conversation. “He refuses to be our lead singer because it would cut into his time with the drama club.” He says it before it hits him that it might not be such a great idea to talk about school, to talk about activities Christian obviously can’t engage in, but it’s too late now.

“Do you sing, Christian?” Jensen asks.

Christian just shrugs but Steve can’t help trailing his knuckles briefly along Christian’s thigh as he says, “He’s got a great voice.” Steve feels proud of Christian, proud of Christian’s talent and strength and resilience.

Christian just ducks his head further but Jensen gives Steve a knowing look. “You should play with us sometime,” Jensen says.

Christian just picks up another card, puts another card down. Steve watches and is glad Jensen doesn’t push Christian further.

“Jason plays,” Steve says, rambling like a moron trying to keep Christian from going entirely into his shell. “You met him, Christian, in the park? He has long crazy curly hair. He’s really good. And Will, whom you didn’t meet, he plays bass. We need a drummer too.”

“Why don’t you sing?” Christian suddenly interjects, speaking to Steve.

Steve can’t help smiling at the hidden compliment. “Because I’m not as good as you are.”

Christian shrugs again and hopes that this topic will drop. Steve’s compliments make him feel both proud and ashamed. He wanted Jeff to be proud of him too, but it was all phony. He just puts another card down.

He’s surprised when he puts down his last card face down, ending the game. Steve and Jensen are obviously surprised too, having been more into the conversation than the game.

“Are you cheating?” Steve accuses as he looks at all the cards he’s still holding. He reaches out with his left hand and punches Christian in the shoulder without thinking, only to freeze in horror when he realizes what he’s done.

But to his delight, Christian laughs a little and turns a teasing smile on him, saying, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

They settle into playing more, even getting a piece of paper to keep score on. They grumble and groan about each card that’s put down or picked up. Christian and Steve are tied when Steve’s mom comes in with a bag of groceries.

“Need help, ma’am?” Christian timidly asks before anyone else can.

Steve’s mom smiles, saying, “No, sweetheart, I’m fine,” but Christian is already standing to take the bag for her even though she only had a few feet to go to put the bag on the counter. Maybe he doesn’t want to be here, but while Christian is in her house, he’s going to be polite.

Jensen is giving Steve another significant look as the two other teens follow Christian and Steve’s mom into the kitchen. Steve’s mom lays a gentle hand on Christian’s shoulder in thanks before she begins to unload the bag. “Jensen, are you staying for dinner?”

“Sorry, Sandy, I’ve got to go to work like Steve here. Actually I should probably get going. Steve, I’ll probably drop by the record store tomorrow, and, Christian, it was nice to see you again. Feel free to drop by the coffee-shop. I need a guinea pig for my newest creations…”

“Get out of here,” Steve interrupts laughing. “You put some much espresso in those damn ‘creations’ Christian will be awake for three days straight.”

“I guess that means dinner is just you and me, kid,” Steve’s mom says to Christian. He smiles back at her hesitantly, all his bravado gone in the face of her kindness. He feels guilty at the idea of her having to cook dinner just because he’s here, guilty that he can’t just buy a pizza like Jensen can.

“You don’t have to make anything just because I’m…” he tries again, but she just shushes him.

“Oh, Steve, your father will be home for dinner tomorrow night, you don’t work then, do you?”

“No, mom, I have the morning shift,” he answers before turning to Christian. “Yeah, you’ll get to meet my Dad, Christian. His name’s Chris too, well, his is short for Christopher, but he’s cool.”

Steve’s mom then laughs and says that maybe that’s not a ringing endorsement but Christian isn’t really listening, he’s stuck on the thought of Steve’s Dad being in the house with him, of Steve’s father knowing that he’s a slut living under their roof. What if he’s like Jeff? Suddenly Christian thinks of all the older guys he fucked in the park, with their knowing eyes and wandering hands, thinks of living in the same house as a man like Jeff. And Steve wouldn’t even know, just like his momma didn’t know.

“Feel free to watch tv in my room or whatever, Christian,” Steve says, but he only gets a vague nod in answer. He doesn’t know why but Christian has just withdrawn all of a sudden. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Barely hearing the door close behind Steve, Christian flinches when Steve’s mom prods his shoulder. “Sweetie, did you want to lie down for a while, or watch tv in Steve’s room before dinner?”

Christian swallows, trying to remove the lump that’s in his throat. He likes Steve’s mom, likes how she always lets him escape. “Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out rough and strained and one hand strokes the back of his neck nervously. “Actually I’m not very hungry, could I just sleep…?”

“Sure,” she says with concerned eyes, but Christian barely notices.

Christian does go into Steve’s room because he’s not actually tired, doesn’t think he could sleep now if he tried, but he wants to watch some tv, he wants to zone out and try to forget, or at least try not to remember right now.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve gets home at about 10:30 pm. He worked the shift with Jason again who teased him once or twice about ‘popping his cherry’ and how hot Christian is, which might seem weird considering Jason is very very straight but really isn’t that weird for Jason. But he didn’t feel like Jason was pressuring him for any information about Christian, he was just teasing and happy that Steve seemed happy. When he walks in the door, he first sees his mom is reading on the couch and immediately says, “Where’s Christian?”

“How was work?” she asks pointedly.

“Sorry, I just…I’m worried about him,” Steve explains sheepishly.

“I know, honey, but that doesn’t mean you should forget everyone and everything else. I just don’t want you to be too hurt if everything doesn’t work out the way you want.”

Steve nods. “So how was your day?”

She just quirks a smile at him and shakes her head. “Fine, he’s in your room, but I think he’s asleep.”

Steve heads to his room immediately, but he remembers what happened the last time she said Christian was asleep in his room. Still, he can’t do anything but hope he won’t get the same kind of surprise this time.

This time it’s only the sound of the tv that greets him. Christian really is asleep, curled on his side on top of Steve’s comforter. He’s adorable, sweet and vulnerable in the flickering light of the tv, not hiding behind anger and defensiveness, not withdrawing from pain and fear.

Steve really wants to just climb in behind the other teen, hold onto Christian like that, but the pain in his cheekbone when he smiles reminds him that touching Christian when he’s asleep is a bad idea. And Steve knows that Christian actually needs the sleep and doesn’t need to be interrupted anyway. Steve decides not to even turn off the tv in case the absence of sound wakes Christian. Instead, Steve simply quietly grabs his toothbrush and pajama pants and heads over to the guest bedroom.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Saturday morning, Christian wakes up after a restless night, having woken up several times. The first time he had woken, he felt bad for falling asleep in Steve’s room, but he had to admit that he did really liked having the tv for comfort and distraction. He doesn’t have to wonder why Steve didn’t wake him up and tell him to move, the bruise yellowing on Steve’s face is all the explanation needed.

Hesitantly, he goes into Steve’s bathroom, using the toothbrush that he had used the morning after they had fucked. He had kicked off the jeans he had been wearing in the night so now he puts them back on, worrying as he does so about wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Normal people probably think that’s disgusting.

When he comes out of the room, Steve’s mom is cooking eggs again. She tosses him a smile and tells him to sit down in response to his ‘Good morning’, not looking at him twice. Steve himself comes out of the guest room only a few minutes later wearing pajama pants and a tshirt. Christian’s eyes are immediately drawn to the bruise on Steve’s face before quickly looking away before anyone notices.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asks Christian as he sits at the table.

Christian nods a little sheepishly. “Good, I-uh, I’m sorry about falling asleep on your bed.”

“No problem. There are plenty of beds,” Steve says. The words are a little forced as he thinks again about how he wanted to sleep in the same bed, with Christian.

“Yeah, but…your stuff, I should have just gone into the guest bedroom last night,” Christian continues, wringing his hands furtively in his lap.

“Hey, no, you can watch tv in there or use anything any time. Ok?” Steve tries to get it across to the other teen but he has the feeling it’s gonna take a while longer.

Steve’s mom places the plates and mugs down on the table then and takes a seat herself. Having an idea, Steve immediately eats a forkful of eggs and then waits, hoping that Christian can’t see that he’s waiting to see Christian eat.

But it might have worked as Christian does go ahead and take a bite of eggs and then another before reaching for his mug.

“So you were born in Texas?” Steve asks.

Christian knows that Steve’s trying for nonchalant, but Christian can tell that Steve’s curious. It’s kinda sweet that Steve cares about his life before. Jeff used to let him talk about his Dad and Dallas too, used to care and talk to him and hold him and listen to him.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Christian can see the irritation on Steve’s face before he asks, “Why did you move?”

“My Dad’s job, he was in the oil business.”

“You moved with your Dad and mom? Any siblings?” Steve presses.

Christian’s face tightens just a little. “My older sister, Jenny.”

Steve wants to ask about that, wants to know what happened to what sounds like a great family. But Christian beats him to it. “I’m assuming you don’t have any siblings?” Christian asks with a glance toward Steve’s mom.

“Nope,” she says sounding pleased to tell Christian about their family. “Stevie’s our only baby.”

“Mooom,” Steve whines. But it’s worth it when Christian smiles teasingly, sharing the laugh with his mom.

“Awww, she just loves you, Stevie,” Christian says.

“Bite me,” Steve says teasing back and Christian actually laughs.

“And y’all’ve always lived in LA?” Christian continues, feeling like he’s on more even footing asking the questions. He can do this, it’s no different from how he used to act with David. David was good at making Christian forget Jeff even if it was only for a minute at a time.

“Yeah, I’ve never lived anywhere else,” Steve says. “But you consider Oklahoma your home?”

Christian looks away from Steve at the word home and takes a gulp of hot chocolate to cover the slip. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t really remember all that much of Dallas, you know?”

It’s more than that but Christian doesn’t want a pity party, doesn’t want to spill his guts more than he already has. Steve nods though he doesn’t really understand. He takes a look at the clock and then a look at Christian’s plate. The talking seems to have been a good distraction since Christian ate a little more of his food than usual.

“Guess I should get dressed for work,” Steve says standing, though he hates to end the conversation, a conversation Christian was actually participating in. Still he feels that after yesterday and this morning, he’s really chipping away at Christian’s walls, a little at a time.

Christian simply continues to sit at the table, sipping his drink with Steve’s mom finishing her breakfast until Steve comes back out. “Bye,” Steve says on his way to the door.

“Ok, honey,” she responds just before Steve closes the door behind him.

Again Christian feels like he’s intruding, intruding on an intimate moment that he’s not a part of. He feels like he shouldn’t be here anymore than he should be with his own family. “Can I do the dishes today?” he asks.

“Not today,” she says taking their plates and mugs and standing to put them in the sink. “I was actually gonna just sit in front of the tv for a while if you’d like to join me?”

Christian stands, moving around to clutch the back of the chair, “Oh, uh, no, that’s ok, ma’am. I don’t want to disturb you.”

She scoffs. “Nonsense, you won’t be disturbing me. I’d love to have your company. Would you like some juice?” she asks even though she’s already pulling down two glasses and opening the refrigerator door.

“Uh, ok,” he says, already following her meekly as she goes to the couch. She puts one glass down on a coaster in front of the seat that Steve was in the other day, and then sits herself on the other end. “Thank you,” he says as he sits carefully.

She’s picked up the remote on the way, but she holds it out to him. “Here. What do you like to watch?” she asks him.

But he simply stares at the remote without moving his hands from his lap. “Oh, uhhhh…I don’t,” he breaks off, shaking his head in denial and regret.

“Ok, let’s see,” she says without judgment, bringing the remote back and turning on the tv. “We’ve got the news, Law and Order reruns, some old tv shows, ooh, cooking shows...”

“That’s fine,” Christian chokes out, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes dart around the room, unsure where to look but unwilling to look at her. “I mean, if you…if you want to watch the cooking show.”

“Ok,” she agrees smiling. She sets the remote on the couch cushion between them and then picks up her own glass of juice. Christian picks up his just so he won’t be expected to speak or anything.

It only works for a second though, because then she’s asking him, “Well, I hear that you enjoy music.”

“Yes, ma’am. Steve is a great guitar player. And song-writer,” Christian adds, politely.

She laughs lightly. “He’s been obsessed with music since he was a baby, you know?”

Christian smiles but doesn’t say anything though he is actually interested as she keeps talking. He just doesn’t know how to respond, and that makes him about as embarrassed as if he’d said something stupid.

“He must get it from his Daddy. That room over there,” she points to the closed door next to what Christian assumes is her and her husband’s room. “That’s actually a music room, there’s a piano and a couple guitars in there. When Steve was a baby, he wasn’t terribly active. He was a good baby and not one to get into everything. Except when that door was left open. You’ve never seen a baby crawl so fast,” she says laughing.

Christian can’t help it, he smiles genuinely but ducks his head as she continues talking. “He’d go straight for the piano bench. I was so afraid that he’d tip it over onto himself, but I think he wanted on it. It was so cute,” she finishes.

“Must be why he’s so talented,” Christian says before picking up his glass for a drink and a moment to collect himself.

It’s obvious that she loves Steve, that she’s proud of Steve. Christian can’t help wondering about his own momma. He wonders what she tells people about him, ‘he was such a great wrestler. I don’t know why he had to ruin it all’. He cringes at his own thoughts.

He knows that his momma loved him, that she just didn’t have time to go to his meets. Besides she trusted that Jeff was encouraging him.

**Chris is ten years old and sick. He doesn’t know anyone at school who’s had the stomach bug, but sometimes he just gets like this, where he can’t keep anything down no matter how worried he is about making weight for wrestling. Most of the time it’s after Jeff has left bigger bruises than normal on his small body.

“Oh, sweetie,” his momma coos, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of comfort that Chris now rarely sees. “I have to go to work, but I hate leaving you here alone.”

Chris doesn’t want her to go either. Being sick isn’t so bad if it means she’s here, petting him, paying attention to him. But he knows that she has to go. “I’ll be fine by myself, momma.”

“Oh, I think I should call Mr. Morgan. He said he’d be happy to check on you last time you missed school.”

“No, momma. I’m old enough to be sick alone.”

“Chris,” she sighs. “It would just make me feel better, ok?”

“Momma, I don’t want him to come over. Please, just, just let me sleep.” He’s whining and he knows it, but he’s desperate. But his mama never reacted well to whining.

“Christian, just do what I say, ok? I’m calling Jeff to check on you and that’s it. Now I have to go to work.”

She’s already moving toward the door of his room, reaching for the light switch. “I love you baby,” she says before she leaves.

She leaves Chris alone in the dark, curled up on his bed, his stomach cramping more at the thought of Jeff being in his home.**

He knows it was all his fault, that he let Jeff do those things to him, but he can’t help feeling a little betrayed, can’t help feeling like she should have known, should have done something to help him. And he hates himself even more because of it.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve walks into the record store to relieve Jason who hotfoots it out of there, shooting Steve a leer as he runs past, “Got a hot date.”

Steve’s still laughing to himself as he situates himself behind the counter. Not five minutes later Will walks in to work the shift with him, but he’s not alone. Right behind Will is Jensen.

“Hey, Will,” Steve says, feeling a little guilty. He doesn’t mean to keep skipping out on his work responsibilities like this. “You mind if I talk to Jensen for a minute?” Steve asks, gesturing with a nod of his head at the breakroom.

“That’s fine,” Will says seemingly not caring either way as he makes himself comfortable in the second chair.

There’s already a customer coming up to Will as Steve walks away from the counter which makes Steve feel worse. But Jensen is right there, saying, “If you hurry, we won’t be gone that long.”

Steve rolls his eyes because it’s just like Jensen to know what he’s thinking. “I hope you have the same kinda insight about Christian,” he mutters.

“What?” Jensen asks.

“Nothing,” Steve says opening the door. He opens his mouth to speak again but Jensen beats him to it.

“So how’d you get that bruise on your face?” Jensen says, cutting to the chase.

Steve shrugs sheepishly, knowing that his response yesterday had made it seem like a big secret which it’s not. He can’t help his fingers reaching up to prod it again, though.

“Dude, stop that,” Jensen reprimands.

Scowling, which is funny because he swears he didn’t used to scowl so frequently before he met Christian, Steve drops his hand. “It’s nothing. Christian was asleep on the couch, and I tried to wake him up by shaking his shoulder…so stupid. He’s used to living outside and protecting himself and he just struck out in his sleep.”

“He was just flailing?” Jensen confirms.

“No, it was more he was unconsciously trying to protect himself,” Steve theorizes.

“Huh, well I guess you’re right that he has been used to be ‘unsafe’ sleeping in the park.”

“So what’d you think of Christian?” Steve breaks in.

Jensen snorts in answer. “He’s about as cuddly as a porcupine, no matter how pretty he is.”

Steve can’t help laughing a little even though it’s not really funny because Christian’s prickliness is making things, well, prickly.

Jensen joins him in a short chuckle before saying, “No, I like that about him. He ain’t gonna take my shit and I like that,” Jensen laughs again. “A real cowboy,” he says almost to himself still smiling.

Steve chuckles a little at his friend, at the rarely seen evidence of Jensen’s own roots and the fact that Jensen really does seem more amused than annoyed at Christian’s attacks.

“Ok, Tex,” Steve teases. “But really he’s calmed down from that defensiveness mostly. This morning he actually teased me a little.”

Jensen smiles in understanding. “Sounds like you’re growing on him. Yesterday he seemed comfortable with you, like he was taking his cues from your behavior.”

That comment makes Steve’s chest feel warm and fuzzy. He must not be screwing everything up if Jensen thinks Christian feels safer with him.

“How is it living with the guy who took your virginity?” Jensen says it teasingly but the jade green eyes are serious.

Steve chokes on his own saliva anyway though. He can feel the blush on his cheeks and wonders how it looks with the yellow.

“Tempting,” Steve says a hand nervously carding through his long locks. “I want him still, but,” he says loudly forestalling Jensen’s inevitable objection. “But, I do realize now that Christian needs to feel safe and work out his own issues before we take things any further. Christian needs me to support him right now, not worry about pleasing me or giving back. We probably shouldn’t have done anything to begin with…”

“Whoa, what?” Jensen interrupts. “That’s a major turn-around from last time. What makes you think it was a mistake?”

Steve shrugs defensively. “I don’t know, but he’s been kinda weird about sex since and I don’t know if it’s because I started something that I can’t finish or because he thinks he’s paying me back or…”

“Uhh, what?” Jensen says somewhat shocked, his eyes wider. “Explain that. What is he doing?”

Steve slumps down in his chair. “After I got back from work the morning after, you know, he was pretty determined to give me a blowjob even though my mom was in the kitchen. And again that same night, he asked about us being together later, like I guess after my mom went to sleep.”

“Huh,” Jensen mutters. “I mean, keep in mind that it isn’t exactly a lot to go on, he could be desperate for affection, desperate for positive reinforcement, though he’s pretty abrasive if he wants that…”

“The common factor is that he was desperate and I felt really bad for not having sex with him. My mom thinks that he has trust issues.”

“Trust issues could stem from abandonment, being in the foster system, the death of a parent, abuse,” Jensen rambles.

“I know. He also has like, mood swings, I guess. He’ll get angry at me and then go silent and then be trying to seduce me and treats my mom always with perfect respect.”

“Well, he is from Texas,” Jensen half-smiles. “I don’t know, Steve, I’m not a psychologist or anything. It’s pretty obvious that something happened though. He’s on the streets for a reason and he seems to both need you and want to push you away.”

“He had a family,” Steve blurts out. “He had a Dad, and a mom who made cookies and an older sister.”

Jensen’s face softens at Steve’s earnestness before speaking. “So something happened that ruined his perfect world. But no matter what happened, Christian’s obviously still trying. The way that he helped that woman and her kids, and not just that night, that proves that he’s worth helping.”

“Plus he’s from Texas,” Jensen adds, smiling big and bright.

Jensen’s smile is so damn supportive that Steve wants to cry. Jensen’s not doing this just because of Steve, he wants to help Christian. Steve wants to cry even harder when he thinks that Christian obviously didn’t have anyone like Jensen or he wouldn’t have run away. But he has them now, Christian has Steve and his mom and Jensen and even Jason, whether Christian wants them or not.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve gets back a little after two, entering the house to see Christian on the living room couch in front of the tv.

“Hey, what’re you watching?” Steve asks.

Christian shrugs in a detached response before he ruins the effect by looking up at Steve with vulnerable eyes. Steve sees for himself that it’s some kind of cooking show.

“Was my mom watching?” Steve asks, rounding the coffee-table to sit in the middle of the couch next to Christian.

“Yeah, she’s just putting in a load of laundry,” Christian answers returning to staring at the tv but automatically stiffening at Steve’s proximity. He can’t help being uncomfortable with Steve’s physical closeness because for so long the only person who really touched him was Jeff. And every time Christian thinks of Jeff he can’t help but feel as conflicted as he did then. As much as Christian loved Jeff for caring about him, he was always afraid. He is afraid still.

And Christian likes Steve. It was fun listening to Steve’s mom talk about Steve when he was young, fun to know those things about the other teen, fun to hang out and play cards and listen to Steve play the guitar. He knows Steve wants him and he wants to make Steve happy so he hesitantly reaches out a hand to lay on Steve’s thigh.

Christian remembers to breathe again when Steve smiles and lays his own hand over Christian’s, entwines their fingers. It’s weird. He never felt like this with Jeff, never tried to reach out to Jeff wondering if Jeff would accept his advances. Jeff taught him what he liked, told Christian to touch him and when and how. He always felt nervous when reaching out to Jeff but not for the same reasons that he feels nervous reaching towards Steve. He never felt happy like he does to have Steve respond to his advance, proud to have done something right, but then he never thought he’d have to worry about Jeff not wanting him.

Smiling stupidly, Steve really wants to bring Christian’s hand to his lips, wants to wrap Christian in his arms. But he doesn’t because he’s not going to spook Christian. He’ll let Christian set the pace, because this, this is big. He doesn’t know everything in Christian’s head but he knows that Christian is capable of loving him back.

“How was work?” his mom asks and it’s only then that Steve realizes that she’s now standing right beside the tv. He was too caught up in Christian actually initiating contact with him to notice her.

“Same old, same old,” Steve says with a smile that’s not dampened even as his mom’s eyes flicker down to their joined hands. She doesn’t say anything though, simply goes into the kitchen.

He and Christian continue to watch the Food network despite that they could change the channel now that his mom is no longer watching. They watch right up until there are sounds outside the door and then it swings open.

“Honey, I’m home,” Steve’s Dad singsongs as he enters the house carrying a briefcase and a suitcase. He chuckles at his own wit as he puts his keys down.

Steve twists his head to look at his Dad as he passes by the couch where Steve and Christian are sitting.

“Hey boys, just let me put my stuff down and we can have dinner,” his Dad says cheerfully. It’s obvious that his mom has told Dad all about the situation, but still Steve is surprised at how well his Dad is taking everything.

Christian reluctantly stands up when Steve does and they make their way over to the dinner table. His eyes are glued to Steve’s parents’ bedroom door as he waits for the man to reappear but as soon as he does, Christian immediately averts his eyes. The man is tall, taller than Christian and Steve and Steve’s mom, but Christian can tell he’s not as tall as Jeff and he’s not as imposing a figure.

His size doesn’t matter as he approaches Christian and neither does the welcoming smile on the man’s face. “Hello, Christian. My name’s Chris, too,” the man laughs wide open as he extends his larger hand for Christian to shake. “Course mine’s short for Christopher.”

Christian knows that he’s supposed to reach his hand out, shake the man’s hand, be polite, but he just can’t seem to make himself, can’t stand to feel a large warm hand grasp his own tightly, not after Jeff, not after all those guys in the park and on the way to LA, mostly older guys with their big hands pushing him down, holding him down.

Steve starts to feel really concerned when Christian doesn’t shake his Dad’s hand. Christian just stands there seemingly not even seeing it, immobile. He’s about to say something when his Dad, still smiling, extends his outstretched hand further to clap Christian on the shoulder.

Christian jerks back to himself immediately, flinching away from the hand as if he’d been struck. It’s then that his Dad drops the smile, backing up with concern warring with suspicion in his eyes. Steve avoids touching Christian himself then, thinking that it would only aggravate the situation more. They’re all just standing around unsure what to do.

“Well, let’s eat, guys,” his Dad says, moving slowly away and around the table. Unfortunately, his Dad’s normal spot at the table is right across from Christian as they don’t use the head of the table.

Christian sits but keep his face averted from the man across from him and tilted more towards Steve. He had forgotten that the man was coming today, too busy thinking about Steve, but now Christian just can’t handle it, can’t handle the idea of another man like Jeff touching him with pretend affection when all he wants is sex just like all the other guys in the park. He wonders if Steve’s Dad can already see it, can see whatever it is that tells men that Christian is a slut and a whore who will spread his legs for a kind word.

Steve’s mom has just put the food dishes on the table and begun passing them around, not that Christian notices. Christian just lifts his head and fraction and speaks directly to her, “Ma’am, can I…can I be excused?”

“Oh sure, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? Do you not feel well?” she asks in genuine concern.

But Christian is still not listening. He just shakes his head and stands up, retreating quickly back to the guest bedroom.

The dinner table is completely silent for a minute following Christian’s withdrawal, all of them staring at their plates and at each other. Steve thinks his Dad actually looks guilty for apparently scaring Christian.

“Oh shit,” Steve finally breathes out in sudden clarity. “It must’ve been his Dad.”

Steve bolts from his own chair, but when he gets to the guest bedroom door he opens it as calmly as he can manage. Christian’s lying down but Steve sees him sit up as he walks in. And Steve can clearly see the fear and panic in Christian’s blue eyes.

“Hey,” Steve says in what he’s hoping is a soothing voice as he sits down on the bed beside Christian. He doesn’t have time to say more though as Christian turns towards him and crushes their lips together.

Christian is antsy and desperate and guilty. Sex may be all he’s good for but he just can’t go back to what it was like with Jeff. And Steve was so nice to him, Steve is young and so different from Jeff with his soft voice and gentle small hands. Surely he’d be better off with Steve. Maybe the man wouldn’t touch him if he was with Steve.

Steve’s heart jumps at the feel of Christian’s lips on his, but he knows better now. It only continues a moment before he gently pushes Christian away. But despite the gentleness, Christian looks stricken and then flings himself back on the bed in rejection with what sounds like a sob.

Christian simply lies there on top of the comforter curled on his side like a child scared of the dark, bony shoulders heaving underneath the too-large t-shirt he’s wearing. Steve doesn’t know what to do and so simply stares for a moment, before he gives in. Maybe Christian would prefer not to be touched but Steve doesn’t know how else to give the comfort Christian obviously needs.

Hesitantly, Steve lies down behind Christian and carefully moves forward until there’s only a sliver of space between them. He doesn’t need to be touching Christian to feel the further stiffening of Christian’s body, but Christian doesn’t move or complain so Steve throws a casual arm over Christian’s waist.

Waiting until Christian relaxes minutely, about as relaxed as Christian ever is around people, Steve asks, “What’s your Dad like?”

“What?” Christian responds automatically in confusion, not even hiding the roughness of his voice from his crying.

Steve can’t help shifting a little closer in response. “What’s he like? Did you spend a lot of time with him?” Steve is not about to ask directly the question that plagues his mind.

Christian shifts uncomfortably and buries his face more in the pillow. He doesn’t want to talk about his Dad now, not with his fear of Jeff in the forefront of his mind. His Dad would have been so ashamed of him.

“He was,” Christian clears his throat as he attempts to sound more like himself, more like his father’s son and less like a sniveling baby. “He was great.”

But Steve is still quiet and waiting and so Christian finds himself continuing to talk. “He taught me to play baseball, Little League, you know? He used to take me to the park. He taught me to grill in the backyard...” Christian trails off as he starts to cry again.

“Did he touch you?” Steve asks in desperation.

Christian shifts again in confusion and unease. “He wasn’t…I mean, he wasn’t really affectionate or anything but I knew that he loved me. He always…he always showed he loved me,” Christian finishes the sentence in a quiet voice.

Steve bends forward to rest his forehead against the back of Christian’s hair, short brown hair tickling his nose. He doesn’t know what else to ask. “Why did you leave him?” Steve asks. Maybe it’s too much too soon to ask a question like that but he just has to know.

Christian just wants to curl up and die now and he does curl more into the mattress, away from Steve’s warmth and comfort. “I didn’t,” he finally gets out, his voice sounding like a dying walrus. “He died…I was eight.” Shifting more in his agitation, Christian continues in a weak voice, “Everything would have been better…he wouldn’t have let, I mean…”

Christian trails off with a shudder and Steve can’t resist moving forward again, trying as much as he can to ease the pain in the other teen. He’s confused himself now, but he knows that he’ll have time later he’ll think about everything that Christian said and did tonight. Now though he simply concentrates on the feel of Christian’s skinny body in his arms.

Steve waits for Christian’s emotions to exhaust him, waits until Christian finally relaxes, slumbering deeply. He wants to stay but knows he shouldn’t. Christian is so fragile and he doesn’t want to push for an intimacy that Christian can’t trust yet. So he slowly slips off the bed and out the door.

But when Christian wakes up alone at 2:47 am, he misses Steve’s warmth. Maybe Steve can’t really protect him, but, alone, Christian can’t help but think that every sound is Steve’s Dad coming to his room. Maybe it’s unlikely that the man would leave his wife’s bed to come to him, but it’s enough of a possibility that Christian simply sits up awake all night, clutching his pillow.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Steve sleeps late without really intending to. It’s just what he usually does on Sunday and normally his mom is happy to let him sleep through the morning. But today, his mom knocks on his door at about ten am, coming in and shutting the door behind her.

“What’s up?” Steve asks, sitting up groggily.

His mom first looks around the room like she just can’t help assessing how messy it is. “I thought you should get up in time to have breakfast with your guest this Sunday,” she says. “He hasn’t come out of his room, but I heard the shower turn on so I know he’s awake.”

Steve is torn between feeling happy that his mom called it Christian’s room and feeling concerned that Christian is apparently hiding in there when yesterday he came out by himself in the morning.

“Did he say anything last night?” his mom’s voice brings him out of his musings.

“No…well, he didn’t admit anything. I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head, trying to order his thoughts, to make sense of what Christian did say last night. “I was so sure his Dad had done something to him after the way he acted at dinner, but he made it sound…I mean, he talked like he wasn’t hiding anything about his Dad. He said that his Dad died when he was eight actually.”

“That’s interesting,” she murmurs considering. “With only one parent, he may have been more vulnerable, more emotionally vulnerable too after a parent’s death. We can guess his running away had something to do with an adult male, but it may not be what we think.”

Fuck it, Steve thinks. They’re back where they started, guesses and hypotheses. Not that Steve would know what to do even if he did know what caused Christian’s reaction last night. “Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll knock on his door.”

“Ok. I’m making breakfast which your father is planning to eat too, but you two can eat on the couch if it’s necessary.”

Steve nods as he heads for his bathroom.

When Steve comes out of his room again, he immediately notices the smell of bacon and takes a quick peek into the kitchen. His mom is making pancakes and bacon. He guesses she’s trying to lure Christian into eating this time, particularly with his Dad at the table.

Christian goes to the door this time when he hears the knock. He’s just been sitting on the bed since his shower, too afraid to leave the room or to sleep. He supposes he should be glad that he’s had so much practice these last two years with being by himself and having nothing to do.

He figured it’d be Steve outside his door but he’s still relieved at the sight and Steve has this small happy smile on his face too. It’s not as big as the smile he gave Jensen, but Christian’s surprised that Steve likes him at all at this point, after crying last night and the fact that they haven’t had sex since that one time.

“Mornin’,” Christian says, his gruff voice belying the fact that he hasn’t been asleep for hours.

“Morning,” Steve answers. “Mom’s making breakfast if you wanna…” Steve gestures to the kitchen awkwardly with one hand.

Christian just nods, and consciously steps out of the safety of the guest room. After last night, he’s determined to at least sit at the table with the man. It’s inevitable, the whole thing is, and he just has to suck it up and deal with it. Sex is all he’s good for and everyone, even Steve, knows it. Doesn’t mean that he can hide and cry like a baby.

Steve can’t help but notice how wretched Christian looks, tired and tense, like he’s steeling himself, like he’s going to the guillotine instead of breakfast. It’s like how he looked when Jensen visited except a hundred times worse. And Christian is sticking close by Steve’s side though Steve doesn’t think Christian even realizes it.

Christian does notice the absence of warmth and safety as he moves away from Steve to take his seat though. Where before there was Steve and the memory of Steve’s gentle hands, now Christian can’t help but look at the man’s empty seat across from him and remember the rough, insistent hands of Jeff and all the guys he met while homeless. He feels like he’s alone again, which is stupid because Steve isn’t going to save him from anything, least of all himself.

The usual mugs of hot chocolate are placed on the table except this time there’s one extra for Steve’s Dad. The man himself appears just as the food is being set on the table.

“Looks great,” Steve’s Dad says as he begins to put food on his plate. He looks dubiously at the hot chocolate while Steve’s mom is serving herself, but he drinks it without a word.

Steve motions for Christian to serve himself next, though Christian really wishes that Steve had served himself first. He was planning to just put on his plate whatever Steve did. Instead he takes one pancake and one piece of bacon.

Christian feels stupid and Steve is disappointed as Steve takes his regular three pancakes and three strips of bacon. Course Christian probably wouldn’t actually eat three pancakes, but maybe if he had taken bites from all of them, it would have looked better than only taking one pancake.

Steve wonders if Christian realizes that he’s keeping his plate and thus his arms close to his body or that he’s actually more on Steve’s side of the dining chair. He’s torn again between feeling happy that Christian obviously feels more secure with him and sad that Christian is scared of his Dad of all people, sad that Christian is scared at all.

Keeping his eyes averted from the man across from him, Christian pours the syrup and then cuts a small bite. He figures if he mostly keeps his attention on Steve, he’ll be ok. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’s not there, right? He’s obviously a two year old. But no matter how pathetic it is, he’s inexpressibly grateful when Steve starts talking to him, distracting him.

“Hey it’s Sunday,” Steve starts. “We can’t go back to the park, but we can still play the guitar. We could go in the backyard even.” He watches Christian anxiously for his reaction because he really thinks it’s a great idea.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Christian says. Anything that gets him away from Steve’s Dad is good. Course the man picks that moment to speak.

“You’re going to serenade the neighbors?” his Dad asks like the huge dork Steve knows him to be. “You know I’ve got an extra guitar in the music room you boys are welcome to use.”

And Steve knows that his Dad is trying to help, trying to show Christian that he’s not scary, that he’s just a nice guy and he’s not going to throw Christian out or anything like that. But it’s not helping. Christian’s hand has left the fork and disappeared into his lap and his whole face is pretty much turned toward Steve to avoid Steve’s Dad.

“Yeah, thanks Dad,” Steve says anyway. But he immediately goes back to just speaking to Christian, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Looks like it may be really hot, maybe we’ll want to wear shorts and tanks.”

Christian blinks and focuses on Steve, watches as a pink tongue comes out to lick pink lips. “Yeah,” he agrees not really having heard the question.

But Steve smiles at him, so he picks up his fork and tries to eat a little more. He can feel the presence of Steve’s Dad at the table like a bee stinger in his skin, but he just focuses on Steve and as long as Steve is mostly focused on him too, he manages to swallow more of his food. If he could do it back then, he can do it now.

Steve notices that Christian is eating as long as Steve distracts him, keeps Christian from withdrawing in fear. So he yammers on not really about anything. “There’s not really any good shade out there either. But I might be able to find our old lawn chairs. Maybe. Do you need some sunscreen?” Steve asks.

Christian is already shaking his head no, when Steve’s mom enters the conversation. “You should both put some on,” she says firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Christian says even as Steve is rolling his eyes. But then Christian picks up the piece of bacon and actually eats it before leaving the food for his mug of ovaltine.

They sit quietly for a minute finishing up their food before Steve’s mom is asking, “Christian, sweetie, have another pancake.”

It was a good try, Steve thinks as he can see Christian consider obeying his mom. But Christian knows that taking another pancake would only have it sitting on his plate so in the end, he has to shake his head. “No thank you,” he murmurs.

“Ok, let’s get changed then, if you’re finished?” Steve asks.

Christian nods and follows close behind Steve, resisting the urge to check behind him to make sure the man is still sitting at the table. He follows Steve into Steve’s bedroom and shuts the door behind them. Steve is already busy pawing inside a drawer and isn’t paying attention to him. Christian hesitates. Surely Steve just wants him to change so Steve can look at him naked. Jeff used to watch him change all the time. But Steve didn’t tell him to get undressed.

Christian plays with the hem of his t-shirt for a minute but quickly pulls it over his head when it seems like Steve’s found what he was looking for.

Steve emerges from his bureau having found his smallest pair of shorts to see Christian standing there with his chest bare, the t-shirt he was wearing held in front of him nervously. “Hey, you can change in your own room or the bathroom,” Steve offers.

Now Christian just feels stupid. He knows that Steve wants him, can see how Steve’s eyes linger, but Steve is acting nothing like Jeff and it leaves Christian feeling unbalanced and even more vulnerable. He reminds himself that he’s not even supposed to care if Steve likes him or kicks him out.

Steve watches Christian stubbornly set his jaw and look away as if Steve had chastised him. Again, it’s like no matter what he does, Christian is going to be upset. Mutely Christian takes the clothes from Steve and heads to the bathroom. Perplexed Steve watches him go and just barely remembers to tell Christian that there’s sunscreen on the counter before the door is shut.

Christian changes into the shorts and dark tank still feeling angry, angry that Steve made him feel safer around Steve’s Dad, angry that he can’t figure out what Steve wants from him. He almost doesn’t put on the sunscreen but he doesn’t want to see the disappointed face of Steve’s mom if he gets a sunburn.

When he comes out of the bathroom Steve is already dressed, but Steve heads into the bathroom to put on his own sunscreen. It only takes him a minute and then he says, “Hey let’s go get that extra guitar.”

“Why?” Christian asks aggressively. “I don’t play.”

“C’mon, you said you didn’t play, but I know you can. We’ll just practice, you’ll pick it up again,” Steve says placating.

“Don’t tell me what I can do,” Christian says angrily. “I’m not playing.”

Steve wants to get angry himself, because he doesn’t understand why Christian has to make everything so difficult. Except he does because Christian is scared and lashing out at him and maybe that’s a good thing, better than the lost little boy that had been at the table.

His anger faded, Steve opens the door and says, “Fine, let’s just go grab some drinks then.”

“Whatever,” Christian mumbles under his breath.

Steve ignores it and heads to the kitchen, grabbing two cokes out of the fridge. It’s not real food or nutritious but it does have calories and maybe Christian will consider it a treat or something. Steve will try anything.

“Oh, wait,” Steve runs back inside his room. “I’ve got an extra pair of sunglasses if you want.” He hands the sunglasses and a coke to Christian who takes them without comment and follows Steve and his guitar outside.

It is bright outside and Christian puts on the sunglasses as Steve wanders looking for the best spot of grass. There really isn’t any shade, no trees to lean on, but he sits when Steve does, fiddling with the cold can of Coke that he doesn’t open.

Steve sits, feeling nervously like this is an incredibly important set he’s about to play. Music is his last resort in connecting to Christian and he takes a few breaths, trying to calm himself, to connect himself with the music. He can’t help starting with his song “Ballad of Denim Boy and Grey Girl” before he begins to play “You’ll Accompany Me” by Bob Seger. He doesn’t try to talk, not at first, just keeps playing and keeps an eye on Christian until the other teen is more relaxed. He plays the Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields” because everyone loves it and “I Feel Fine”.

“Do you know this one?” Steve asks when he thinks it’s safe.

“Yeah, “Margaritaville”,” Christian responds diffidently. His anger has disappeared like wisps of fog at the sound of the music and the sight of Steve playing. Steve’s still beautiful in the sunlight, his nimble fingers are as interesting as the sound of the song itself. Christian’s never really looked at anyone he’s had sex with before, not like this. Most of the people he’s had sex with were just convenient and with Jeff…

He never really looked at Jeff. Jeff was just always there, teaching him, helping him, touching him. At first Jeff had only wanted to touch him, to look and stroke and squeeze, but as Christian entered puberty, Jeff showed Christian how he wanted to be touched. He’d guided Christian’s still small hands around his dick, held Christian head to his chest as Christian suckled his nipple.

His face heats in a way that has nothing to do with the weather as Christian remembers his lips on Steve’s chest. He feels uncomfortable and ashamed and horny despite himself. He’s such a slut, getting horny over Steve just playing the guitar.

“Christian,” Steve says, watching as crystal blue eyes focus back on the here and now. “Do you know this one?”

A wrinkle appears between Christian’s eyebrows. He knows it, he just can’t remember… “Time Marches On,” Christian says, grinning a little at the smile on Steve’s face. “God, that’s an old song.”

“Ah, it’s a classic,” Steve replies, glad that Christian is talking to him again. He hasn’t finished the country song when he switches to play something else.

Christian ducks his head as his grin widens, he just can’t help himself. “You’re a dork,” Christian says brightly. “Sonny and Cher? Really?”

Steve laughs free and open. “I know you know the words. C’mon…I got you babe…I got you babe…”

Christian laughs and looks up at Steve for a minute, but he doesn’t sing along. Steve is still laughing as he sets the guitar aside, reaching for his Coke before it gets hot. As he figured, Christian also opens his own and takes a drink. Christian seems to be a lot more comfortable drinking things which Steve supposes is understandable. A person really can’t survive without drinking.

“Were you ever in band?” Steve asks cautiously, wondering how far he can push Christian’s new attitude.

Christian glares at him, taking the question the wrong way. “No. Why? I’m not playing.”

“No, I just…you said you were in Little League, I just wondered what else. You look like you’d be good at sports,” Steve tries again.

Christian flushes and looks away, taking another swallow from his sweating can. He’s proud that he doesn’t look as out of shape as he feels, but he’s embarrassed because it sounds a lot like what Jeff told him when they first met. Is it like code for looking fuckable?

“I had to quit Little League,” Christian says. “After, you know…after my Dad died.”

“Oh,” Steve says and it sounds so much like pity that it makes Christian set his teeth. He doesn’t want Steve feeling sorry for him.

“Wrestling,” Christian blurts out. He wasn’t going to tell Steve about wrestling at all, but he doesn’t want Steve thinking that he was such a loser that he just sat at home, either. Even if he is a loser. “Afterwards…I did wrestling, the coach…he helped me cause, you know, my momma was busy.”

Steve smiles a little at Christian’s fumbling, glad that the information was given freely. “How ‘bout your sister?”

God, Steve just wants to kiss him when Christian smiles this small proud little smile before saying, “She does dance. She got a scholarship to Oklahoma U.”

Crap, Christian thinks, he just basically told Steve where she is, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. Steve simply smiles at him and says, “You’re proud of her.”

“Course,” Christian says gruffly. She turned out great, unlike him, a pathetic whore who has to beg for charity. But Steve is still smiling at him, gentle and genuine.

“I never did play any sports,” Steve says, trying to continue the conversation. “Probably never will.”

“Yeah, your mom told me,” Christian replies with a small teasing smile.

“Great,” Steve groans. “Do I even want to know what else she said?” When Christian’s smile just gets bigger, Steve hastily answers his own question, “No, I don’t want to know. Just keep it to yourself.”

Christian’s laugh is husky as Steve continues. “Nah, I’m not really into organized activities, I guess. Rather just figure things out on my own.”

Christian nods empathy. But hee loved wrestling, loved being on a team but competing by himself, loved using his whole body and his mind in the sport. Being on that mat took his mind off everything the way that nothing else did. Music put him in touch with his emotions, but wrestling let him ignore it.

“Not really into competing either, really,” Steve continues making fun of himself a little.

“I like sports,” Christian says and shrugs. “But I guess I’m into physical things…and into competing.” He chances a glance and a smile at Steve. “And in wrestling, you’ve got a team, you know, supporting you, but they can’t actually help. You win or lose all by yourself.”

Steve nods. He guesses he can understand that, though he still wouldn’t want to be stuck in a circle with another guy trying to pin him. He practically groans out loud when his thoughts go to Christian pinning him.

“Guys,” his mom’s voice interrupts his thoughts and Steve looks toward the back door. Steve is just realizing his mom is carrying plates when Christian hops up to take them for her. “Thank you, Christian. I just brought you two some sandwiches and chips for lunch.”

Steve almost laughs, because, yeah his mom is great and all, but she doesn’t normally make his sandwiches for him. And she’s got a bag of chips and a plate of cookies and two more cold Cokes. It’s nice that his mom is equally worried about Christian even if Christian himself can’t see it.

“Thanks, mom,” Steve says as he stands to take the other plate from his mom’s arms. Course that leaves Christian staring guiltily at the plates of food in his arms as he understands it’s for him. He just feels like he’s bothering this poor woman, making her make him an extra plate and extra cookies and taking up space in her house and her guest room. He hasn’t done a single thing to help.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Christian says soberly. He doesn’t even know if he can eat it and hates that he’s also wasting her food. God he wishes he could just melt into the grass.

Steve is already picking up his sandwich, but he notices that Christian doesn’t do the same. Jesus, a minute ago Christian seemed fine, seemed like he was in a great mood and would actually eat, and Steve has no idea what changed so quickly that has Christian looking dejectedly at the grass and ignoring the plates of food.

“Hey,” Steve says. “Look, my mom made oatmeal raisin cookies this time. You have to try one and tell me if you think it’s better than the peanut butter ones.”

Christian looks at him like he’s grown an extra head and maybe it’s supposed to look scary but Steve just bites into his own cookie. After a moment Christian shakes his head and reaches for a cookie himself.

Dramatically, Christian takes a bite then pretends to consider how good the cookie is. Yeah, the cookies she makes are good, but they’re just cookies, dude, he thinks. Finally he swallows and says, “Still not as good as my mama’s chocolate chip.”

Steve makes a choking noise in his throat that’s almost but not quite a laugh. He has to take a swallow from his Coke to get it down before speaking. “Well I guess we’ll have to make some chocolate chip cookies sometime.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know how she makes them,” Christian fumbles embarrassed.

“We’ll experiment then,” Steve says reasonably. He doesn’t love baking because he can’t be as creative with it, has to stick to certain amounts of flour and oil and whatever, but it might be fun with Christian. It’ll at least be something else to do.

Christian shakes his head again. Steve makes everything sound so easy when nothing is ever easy for him. “I can’t make anything but eggs and toast.”

“I can teach you. Cookies aren’t too hard and we can work up to other stuff,” Steve counters, knowing all too well the signs of Christian shutting down some.

Christian stares at the other teen in disbelief. Steve is just…Christian can’t even describe the other teen. Maybe life really is that easy for Steve.

Steve watches as Christian continues to nibble at the cookie, but he’s still not in as good of a mood as he was earlier. So Steve brushes his hands on his shorts and picks the guitar back up. He starts up “Family Tradition” by Hank Williams, Jr.

“Sing along,” Steve tries again.

This time Christian obliges him, though his voice is soft and he glances toward the house as if he’s afraid of disturbing Steve’s parents inside. Then Steve plays “This Cowboy’s Hat” by Chris LeDoux which Christian also sings to.

Steve takes a break then to eat some of the food before them. They continue on like that for a while. Steve plays and sometimes Christian sings and they break for food. As Christian relaxes more, he begins to eat more every time that Steve does. In fact, Christian eats the whole sandwich eventually and it surprises both of them.

But they spend the whole day munching so when Steve’s mom comes out again to call them to dinner, they don’t know what to say. Steve looks over at Christian who looks away.

“Uhhh,” Steve says. “We just finished the sandwiches.”

For a second she just stares at him uncomprehendingly. Then she sighs. “I’ll just bring out some more sandwiches then.”

Christian opens his mouth to protest, but she’s already back inside the house. Sighing, he tells Steve, “I don’t need another sandwich. I’m fine.”

Steve shrugs, not really knowing how to make Christian feel like he’s not imposing on them. “I was gonna have another sandwich and she offered to make them. It’s not a big deal to make another sandwich.”

He knows very well that that’s not going to make Christian feel any better, but he’s hoping he can get Christian to eat some of it. He just futzes around on the guitar until she comes back out. They’ve still got most of the bag of chips, but she’s brought more Cokes and cookies, too. Steve really doesn’t want another Coke, but he takes it anyway.

They both thank her but again, Christian is obviously not interested in eating. “You remember this one?” Steve asks. It’s one he actually wrote, one that Christian has heard before though only once.

Christian listens intently and remembers. He remembers hearing the song for the first time in the park, remembers how emotional it made him to think that Steve had written something so beautiful.

“Yeah,” Christian says with a slight choke in his voice again. “I don’t remember the name, but…”

Steve laughs softly under his breath. “It’s ‘I Have Learned to Love’. I played it the first time I made you sit next to me in the park. You told me it was beautiful.”

His fingers stop moving on the guitar. His fingers actually hurt now from playing so long, but he’d done it to make Christian happy, to make him feel safe and comfortable. He’d do it longer if Christian needed.

But right now, he sets the guitar aside on the grass and reaches out for Christian’s hand. He wants to just sit there and watch the sky darken like that, so he does. Steve flops down on his back in the grass and pulls on Christian’s hand until the other teen does as well. The sunset is fading into dark blue and their hands are curled together, lying between them in the grass.

Turning his head to look at Christian taking off his sunglasses to stare up at the sky, Steve says, “We should write together sometime. Write a song, that is.”

Christian snorts and blinks, long lashes resting momentarily on his cheeks, but he doesn’t look over. “Why are you so convinced that I’m any good?”

“Because you love it. You love the music.”

Christian looks at Steve then, sees Steve looking at him with that small happy genuine smile on his face. He felt Steve’s thumb brush over his hand before Steve turns his head to look back up at the sky. It feels intimate somehow and maybe Christian should be doing something, maybe Steve wants Christian to kiss him or suck him off or who knows. But just lying here in the grass feels nice.

Steve knows that holding onto Christian’s hand is not exactly encouraging him to eat any more. He doesn’t want to let go though and the food will still be there later. “Do you know any constellations?”

“Wh…” Christian says inarticulately.

Steve laughs but it’s not at him. “You mean star constellations?” Christian asks, and, yeah, that made him sound dumb but Steve’s question was kinda out of the blue.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, still giggling.

“No,” Christian says, still caught off guard by the direction the conversation had turned. “I was never that interested, but when I was sleeping outside and I kinda wished that I knew more.”

Neither teen was expecting Christian to be so honest. Steve squeezes Christian’s hand in a small gesture of comfort and turns his head to look at Christian, but Christian’s no longer looking towards him.

“How long since you ran away?” Steve asks despite his desire not to push Christian.

“Two years,” Christian quietly admits. He could have lied or refused to answer, but he just doesn’t want to disturb the quiet.

Steve’s heart breaks in that quiet. He wants to tell Christian that he can stay with them forever, that Christian will never have to go back to the streets. He wants to tell Christian that everything is going to be better from now on. He wants to know why. Why did Christian leave home? What is Christian running from?

But he’s too afraid to say anything, too afraid of hurting Christian more with his curiosity. He wants to do more than hold Christian’s hand but the way that Christian acts about being touched and about sex…Steve doesn’t think that any more physical contact would be a good idea.

Eventually though, Steve says, “Maybe we can find them together.” Christian doesn’t respond so maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But the silence isn’t more painful than it had been before.

“Hey, you think that one’s the big dipper?” Steve asks, pointing with his free hand.

Christian looks where Steve’s pointing but, Steve’s finger could be pointing at half the sky over there for all he knows. “Could be. Or it could be a shoe, it’s difficult to tell.”

Steve giggles and curls onto his side, closer to Christian though he doesn’t let go of Christian’s hand, only moves their joined hands out of the way. Christian smiles at the reaction.

As the laughter dies down, Steve is very aware of how close he is to Christian, of how close his own lips are to Christian’s lips. He wants to just close that distance but he doesn’t.

“Boys,” his mom interrupts. “It’s getting late and you haven’t eaten the sandwiches. Steve, don’t forget you have to go to work tomorrow.”

Steve giggles again and Christian huffs a laugh under his breath as they both sit up. They shuffle back over to their sandwiches and Christian even eats a whole half all at once.

But as soon as they get inside, Christian stiffens at the sight of Steve’s mom and Dad sitting on the couch in the living room. “Good night,” both adults call out.

They put their dishes in the kitchen and then Steve walks Christian to the door of his room, feeling only slightly stupid about treating this like it’s the end of a date. Steve doesn’t feel totally stupid because he can see Christian watching his Dad as if Christian’s afraid of an attack.

But Steve doesn’t know what to do to make things better for Christian so he simply says, “Good night,” as Christian warily goes inside.

Christian spends another sleepless night, waking at every sound and at the feel of large hands on his skin.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Steve comes out of his room already showered and dressed to go to work. His mom is again in the kitchen making breakfast and his Dad has already gone to work. But Christian isn’t in sight, probably hiding in his room again.

Steve sighs. It’s pretty obvious that the reason Christian won’t leave the room is Steve’s Dad, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up. Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell the other teen that his Dad usually just grabs cereal or a bar on his way out the door and the only reason his mom is making breakfast on days besides Sunday is because of Christian.

He knocks on Christian’s door and is unsurprised when Christian opens it immediately as if he had simply been waiting for the sound to end his self-imposed exile. “Morning,” Steve says.

Christian hesitates before answering, long enough for his eyes to scan the house that he can see. But he doesn’t see the man anywhere. “Mornin’,” he finally responds, his eyes finally landing on Steve.

“Dad’s already gone to work,” Steve says. He can’t seem to help the way the words fall out though he knows Christian wants to ignore it. He just wants to reassure Christian.

Christian winces at the proof that Steve knows what he’s looking for, at the fact that Steve can see that he’s afraid. He’s really losing his ability to hide. How can Steve read him so easily when no one in Norman could see that anything was wrong?

Averting his eyes, Christian nods before stepping past Steve out of the bedroom and heading towards the kitchen. Their breakfast of eggs and toast and Ovaltine is waiting on the table again.

Once they’re all seated and eating, Steve’s mom starts the conversation, “So you two are going to go see Mary and the kids today, right?” She says it like a question but her tone leaves no doubt that it isn’t.

Christian stops eating to look at her suspiciously, but nods obediently. For whatever reason, she wants him to go so he’ll go. Daniel and Liz may deserve more than someone like him, but he does want to see them again. He wants to make sure they’re all right even if there’s nothing he can do to help anymore.

“Sure,” Steve agrees quickly and glancing at the teen beside him. “We’ll go as soon as I get off work, if that’s ok, Christian?”

Christian nods in agreement easily, but Steve’s mom speaks again. “Actually I thought there’d be time for you two to go get the kids a little gift first. I’m sure they’re bored being in the shelter for now and it’ll brighten their day during such a hard time for them. Maybe something like a book or a game or something.”

Steve nods like it’s not a big deal as he keeps eating his breakfast, but Christian has stopped agreeing and just watches Steve’s nonchalant attitude. Jerking back to himself, Christian keeps moving his fork through his eggs but doesn’t eat anymore.

Of course, it’s not a big deal to Steve. Steve can afford to buy gifts for kids he barely knows, Steve with his stay-at-home mom and his Dad and his friends and video games and happy happy life.

Now Christian doesn’t want to go. Steve is the person who should go, not him. Jesus, what did he ever do for those kids? He gave them chips and candy, great. That’s exactly what two growing kids need. Steve could buy them sandwiches and French fries, give them homemade cookies. He took them to the playground knowing that Mary didn’t want them to go. Steve probably would have called the police and gotten her bastard husband arrested before he had the chance to beat her again. The police would believe someone like Steve, everyone would.

He’s just so useless and pathetic and he doesn’t want to see the looks of disappointment on those kids’ faces when they realize it. Fuck, he even left them with a stranger at the Emergency room. He was having sex with Steve when they needed him. They probably hate him and he wouldn’t blame them. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and gone to social services with them, but as much as he doesn’t want to see those kids disappointed in him, he absolutely does not want to see his mama disappointed in him.

He barely hears it when Steve says goodbye and heads off to work, only looks up when Steve’s mom asks if he’s finished. Nodding yes, Christian stands and tells her that he’s not feeling well and goes into Steve’s room to watch tv. He tells her he’s not hungry when she tells him lunch is ready too.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve is excited by the time he returns home. He’s certain that seeing the kids will make Christian happy even if the other teen is acting like he doesn’t want to go. And when he gets home, Christian is ready, dressed and showered. Christian doesn’t complain or try to get out of going.

“Great,” Steve says as he picks up his keys again. “I know just the place to pick up the gifts too. You think we should get them wrapped?”

“Yeah,” Christian responds. He knows Liz at least will get a kick out of unwrapping it. And those kids deserve it to be really special.

He feels like a fraud as he gets into the passenger seat of Steve’s car. It’s so normal, two guys going out for an errand. But it’s not normal. Christian isn’t normal. This isn’t his home, not his family or car. Hell, these aren’t even his clothes! The too-big clothes feel suddenly uncomfortable on his skin and he wonders again if people can tell just by looking that they’re not his, like a child playing dress-up trying to be something he’s not. He doesn’t have money to buy gifts, he hasn’t been inside a store in years.

Gritting his teeth for a moment, Christian tries to find the denial that served him so well when he was in Oklahoma, that allowed him to seem normal. The radio is on, playing Stevie Wonder so he focuses on that. “Can you play anything by Stevie Wonder on the piano?” Christian asks to pass the time.

Steve smiles that Christian recognizes the song. “A couple. I don’t practice as much on the piano, but I like to play songs on both instruments.”

As they pull into the parking lot of a children’s bookstore and gift shop, Steve shoots a worried glance as Christian steps out of the car. He had figured that Christian would feel uncomfortable about Steve buying the gifts since Christian doesn’t have any money, but Steve doesn’t have a clue what to say or do to make it better. Though it’s not going as badly as Steve had thought, it’s obvious that Christian still wants the kids to have a gift, even if he can’t buy it himself. It’s probably another of those things Christian would prefer he not mention, not draw attention to it.

It’s not until they’re inside the store that Christian feels his walls crumble again. He wants to be happy for the kids, but like the selfish bastard he is, he can’t help focusing on himself. Christian can’t help looking around at all the toys, all the books. He looks around and remembers the way his childhood suddenly ended and hates them all.

Steve takes a walk around looking at the choices, noticing Christian trailing behind him like a reprimanded dog, not touching anything like he’s afraid he’ll break something. It’s a friggin’ toy store. But when he asks questions about the kids’ preferences, Christian gives the answers easily. Liz likes dogs more than cats and Daniel likes baseball. At the register, Steve adds a deck of playing cards to their stack too. His mom is probably right that they’ll want something they can play with in a small space and cards are the best for that kinda thing.

Christian helps pick out the wrapping paper too. And then they’re on their way.

The drive to the shelter is silent, Christian staring at the gifts in his lap. They bought each kid some books and a toy and a deck of playing cards for them both. The kids are gonna be really excited about them Christian knows and he can’t wait to see their faces. But when they get out of the car, Christian tries to hand over all of the gifts to Steve.

“No,” Steve says. “They want to see you more than me. You should give the gifts to them.”

“No,” Christian says firmly, still trying to shove the packages at the other teen. “You bought them. They should know that.”

Steve has no idea why the kids should know who bought the gifts. They’re kids, they don’t care. They care that they got gifts and they’ll care that Christian came to see them. But he doesn’t want to argue about it in the parking lot all day, so he sighs and takes them.

The inside of the shelter is nicer than either of them thought it would be and they have to sign in at the desk because only invited guests are allowed in. They have a seat and wait for Mary to come to meet them.

They hear Mary’s voice say, “Christian,” high-pitched and excited before they even see her come through the door. Steve suddenly thinks it was a good thing after all that he was holding the gifts as Mary immediately envelopes Christian in a hug.

“I’m so glad you came to see us,” Mary gushes as she squeezes Christian close like the teen is her own child.

Christian blushes, his tan face turning a maroonish color in embarrassment. Mary mostly respected that he didn’t like to be touched too much. Now he has no idea how to respond to this sudden affection.

But Mary holds him tight for a long moment before she speaks into his hair, tears thickening her voice. “Thank you so much. It was the most awful night of my life, but it led to us being here, to finally being safe. You saved my life and probably the lives of my children.”

Christian wants to cry himself by the time she steps back to give him some space, tears well in his eyes even as he blinks and looks to the ground. He wants to cry at the feeling of being so needed by her even as that pride wars with feeling as if he is wholly inadequate and undeserving of her praise and care. Without Steve, Christian has no idea what he would have done.

His voice betrays his emotions as Christian whispers, “It was…Steve saved y’all.”

Mary smiles sadly and ruffles Christian’s short brown hair before turning to Steve to give him a half hug, careful of what’s in his arms. “Thank you too,” she says sincerely.

Then she’s gathering herself, wiping away her tears and turning mainly back to Christian. “Come on, then. They’re just dying to see you, Christian.”

She leads them down a hallway with bedrooms on both sides. Christian is dumbfounded by how nice it is. Steve’s mom really did a great job. This is a lot nicer than most shelters where it’s just rows of cots in a large warehouse type room.

Again Christian has barely made it in the door when he’s attacked by the two kids amidst cries of “Christian!” It’s so sweet that Steve is getting teary eyed.

The breath whooshes out of Christian’s lungs as Liz and Daniel run headlong into him. “Hey guys,” Christian says as he gets them to let go enough for him to crouch down. “How’ve y’all been?” he asks sincerely. “This place looks pretty nice.”

“They have a play room,” Liz blurts out.

Christian smiles, gentle and easy. “Yeah?” he asks. “Hey, Steve’s got some presents for you guys.”

The kids look shyly at Steve standing there in the doorway with Mary, but they don’t move away from Christian, don’t let go, not even for presents. Steve figures they’ve got some good reasons to be wary of strangers so he crouches down himself, holds out the packages and says, “Hey guys. I’m glad that you like this place. We just wanted to get you guys something to play with.”

Daniel is the first to reach out for one of the packages but Liz turns back to clutch Christian instead. In the end, Christian takes the packages from Steve and the three of them sit on the second bed in the room to open them. The kids seem as excited by the fact that they have gifts with wrapping paper and everything as they are about what’s inside.

Steve and Mary take a seat on the other bed and they’re both smiling indulgently. The kids’ have barely taken their hands off Christian since he walked in the room. Even as they’re ripping open the wrapping on their gifts they’re both pressed so close to the teen that they might as well be on his lap.

They’re still cooing over the gifts when Mary says, “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” they respond almost in unison, looking up at Christian like he hung the moon and stars.

“No, Steve bought them for y’all,” Christian corrects, pointing over to Steve.

Steve is so confused as to why Christian is making such a big deal of this. He knows Christian is uncomfortable taking what he sees as charity, but they’re kids. They don’t care who paid the bill. But they obediently look to him and say thank you again in more subdued tones. “You’re welcome,” he says simply.

Of course then, Liz wants to show Christian the play room and Daniel wants Christian to come outside and play ball with him. To Steve it just seems so casual, so comfortable as if this is something all three are used to. Christian is being pulled in two different directions as he says, “We’ll be back,” over his shoulder, smiling the whole time.

Steve is left with Mary but he’s just really happy that Christian is getting to see how excited the kids are to see him again. He looks over to see Mary smiling indulgently at him as if she knows what he’s thinking about Christian.

“Thank you again for what you did. Your mother was extremely helpful.”

Steve shrugs, feeling a little uncomfortable himself and says, “Yeah, she’s great. I’m just glad everything worked out so well.”

Mary nods in agreement. “She said that you met Christian when he listened to you play music in the park? And then you wanted to get to know him better?” she asks.

“Uhh, yeah, that’s a good summary,” Steve laughs a little. “It didn’t go very well at the beginning though, when I tried to give him food.”

“Ah, you must have been the hippie that gave Christian the two sandwiches,” she infers smiling.

But Steve is a tad confused now. “Just one sandwich.”

Mary sighs and her smile turns a little sad. “I knew it. Christian gave it to us, saying he had already eaten one. It’s just,” she has to stop there as emotions seem to clog her words. “It’s so sweet that he cared so much for my kids when nobody knew or cared or helped, Christian always shared whatever he had even though he had so little.”

Steve bites his lip to control his own emotions at the picture she paints. “He was very protective of your kids when you were hurt.”

She holds her hand over her face for a moment then and Steve can imagine what she’s picturing. He saw the horror of it from the outside, saw how Mary’s injuries devastated those kids as well as Christian. After a moment, she wipes her face and says, “I can imagine. He was always very protective of them. I only wish I could have protected him more.”

“Protected him from what?” Steve asks.

Mary’s expression is strained for a moment and Steve is certain she’s weighing how much to say to him about Christian. “It’s obvious that you care for Christian, and it’s admirable what you and your family are doing for him. Christian never did tell me why he was on the streets, and I never pushed him for the information. But I did watch him. I saw things I know he didn’t want me to.”

She gives Steve a look then, a measuring gaze as if judging how necessary it is to explain that. “Sometimes he’d go off with guys, much older men…to have sex, it was obvious from the way the men were often pawing at him.” She looks disgusted and he feels pretty sick himself.

“He seemed willing, leading them into secluded sections of the park, telling the guys to hurry up, but afterwards…They hurt him, physically sometimes in the way he walked or sat, and how afterwards, he’d be sullen and angry. Not even Daniel and Liz could make him smile then.”

Steve’s mind is whirling at the information and he doesn’t even notice when the tears start flowing down his pale cheeks. Fucking shit, it might not have been Christian’s Dad, but here’s proof that Christian has been hurt, that Christian has been…that men have been…abusing him. He barely feels her hand on his back, soothing him.

“Did he ever, I mean, do you think he wanted to have sex or thought he had to for some reason or…?”

“Oh, honey, you slept with him, didn’t you?”

Steve doesn’t want to answer that question, but he doesn’t have to. She knows the answer anyway. He knows he shouldn’t have, knew then that Christian had been hurt badly, that he was scared, scared of losing Mary, scared of being picked up by social services, scared of returning to wherever he came from. And Christian, he acted the same way the next morning, angry and sullen and ashamed. Does Christian think he’s just like all those guys, all those guys that hurt him, that just wanted sex from him? Is that why Christian has been offering Steve sex every other minute?

“You couldn’t have known,” she continues.

“But I did know,” Steve cries, his voice high-pitched and miserable. “I saw how he acted around older guys, I…”

“Steve, it’s hard to know what it’s like to be in this kind of situation until it happens to you or someone you care about,” Mary says. The words sound significant and so Steve risks a glance up at her. He can imagine that she never saw herself in her current situation either.

“I don’t think Christian really knows whether he wants to have sex with a person or not. You can’t be expected to read his mind if he doesn’t know.”

Steve nods even though he still feels awful that he might have hurt Christian more. Here he was trying to be Christian’s friend, but maybe all Christian sees is another guy who fucked him.

“Hey,” she says to get his attention. “He likes you. I’ve seen other people try to get close to him. He’s too defensive…”

“Prickly as a cactus,” Steve adds inanely.

Mary smiles. “Yeah, like a cactus. He needs you, needs help to get off the streets, needs to know friendship and support. He wants to like you despite the sex.”

Steve nods again. He’s going to be better. He gets it now. Christian’s welfare is more important that Steve’s libido. If he really loves Christian, he won’t touch him again, not until Christian is ready. He’s not sure when he’ll know that, though. He just needs more information. Why is Christian like this? What is Christian thinking?

Steve’s got his emotions mostly under control again, when hears Christian talking down the hallway as he and the kids come closer to the room. Christian is smiling and breathing a little harder than normal and Steve mostly forgets to hate himself when looking at how happy Christian is.

Mary stands as the three enter the room and Steve does as well. “Well guys,” she says. “I think you’re going to have to say goodbye to Christian and Steve now, because it’s about time for dinner.”

Christian is disappointed but hides it better than the two kids who groan and grumble and cling to his legs and waist. Liz is still holding the stuffed dog Steve bought her, pressed in between her body and Christian.

It’s a painful reminder that this is more than likely a bigger separation than just for dinner. Mary and Daniel and Liz are all heading for a better life. This shelter is just a stepping stone to them getting back on their feet. But Christian knows that he’s only returned to his old tricks. He doesn’t know what Steve’s game is exactly but he knows that it only ends one way for him.  
Still he’s gonna miss these kids so he picks up Liz who squeals, and he hugs her for a moment before putting her down on the bed. Then he crouches down and gives Daniel a tight hug as well.

Steve can see that Mary is getting misty-eyed watching her children interact with Christian. He thinks that maybe she sees in Christian how good people can be to one another even in the midst of such despair, maybe she sees in Christian the kind of man she wishes her husband had been.

Christian is silent on the way back, but Steve knows…well, ok, Steve had just pretty much been slapped upside the head with the fact that he doesn’t actually know what Christian is thinking, but, Steve is pretty sure that Christian is happy that he saw the kids and sad to leave them.

Dinner is quiet as well, Steve’s mom asking about Mary and the kids. Christian even talks in front of Steve’s Dad to tell them all about the playground and how the kids are doing. But everyone seems to respect the contemplative mood that Christian and Steve are in. Christian eats, but not a lot.

After dinner, Steve leads Christian to sit on the couch in the living room and they watch tv. And though Christian never openly stares at his Dad, Steve knows that Christian is always aware of where the man is as his Dad helps with the dishes and then goes to watch tv in his bedroom.

It’s late by the time Steve gets to call Jensen, after Christian has gone into his room, but Jensen is used to it now. Jensen has barely said hello when Steve pours out the whole story, desperate to tell someone but not able to face telling his mom how badly he screwed up. He tells Jensen how Mary talked about Christian helping them when he had nothing, how Christian had sex with those older men like he was willing.

“He can’t have been willing,” Steve insists even though Jensen isn’t arguing, hasn’t gotten a word in yet. “She said Christian doesn’t even know if he wants to have sex or not.”

“Hey, Steve, I’m sure its…”

“And I’m just like all of them. Just because Christian seemed to want it doesn’t mean shit. I hurt him, Jensen, just like all those pervy old men and Christian doesn’t trust me because he thinks I just want sex.”

“Whoa,” Jensen says louder. “Just breathe a second and listen. We already figured that it was a bad idea for you to have sex with  
Chris so let’s not go beating a dead horse. He may be having a hard time trusting someone whom he’s had sex with, but from what I’ve seen and what Mary also said, he still trusts you as much as he trusts anyone.”

“But why would he do that? Why would he have sex with those men?! Why would he have sex with me if he didn’t want to?”

Jensen is silent for a moment. “Well, it’s self-destructive for one, like he doesn’t like himself very much, or like he’s acting out previous instances of abuse.”

Steve chokes. “So someone did abuse him, before he got on the streets. Someone made him think he’s only good for sex.”

“There could be another explanation, other abuse or neglect…it’s possible, but, yeah.”

“What do I do now if I’ve already ruined everything?” Steve cries, tears slipping down his cheeks and more than apparent in his choked voice.

“You haven’t ruined it, Steve. Now you just have to show that you’re trustworthy and not just after sex with him. Eventually maybe he’ll learn a different way to deal with things than having risky sex. Look, Steve, right now, you’re the only one that can help. Chris needs you. He needs you to be his friend.”  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian sleeps most of the night, maybe because of seeing the kids, maybe just because he’s worn out and has to sleep sometimes. Whatever the reason, the sleep makes him feel better the next morning, awake and alive and more content, but he still can’t come out of his room, just in case, just in case that man is there.

Every morning that man has been gone by the time Steve has knocked on the door, but still…Christian just feels safer with Steve by his side. Because surely the man won’t make a move with his son right there. Surely Steve is better than being with his father.

But this morning it’s Steve that’s most nervous as he goes to get Christian. How is he supposed to act now? He feels like he should apologize or explain but shouldn’t call attention to it. He feels like he should fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.

Christian doesn’t look like he’s noticed Steve’s awkwardness at all, but why would he, Steve thinks. Christian has been throwing himself at Steve this whole time like it was normal so why would he think Steve needs to apologize. And that thought doesn’t make Steve feel the least bit better. What does Christian feel about him, for him?

He can hear Jensen’s voice in his head, telling him that Christian needs him, needs him to act normal and friendly and supportive, but Steve just feels awkward. He’s thinking too much now, thinking about every little move, thinking about how bright or dull his smile should be, thinking about each inch of space between them wondering if it should be bigger or smaller. He should be happy that Christian is eating some of his breakfast, but he’s too worried about his own behavior. But before Steve can do anything stupid, Steve’s mom speaks up.

“Your father and I are planning to go out tonight. I assume you two can look after yourselves. I was going to go run some errands when you come home and meet your father at the restaurant.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Steve answers easily. But Christian can’t decide how he feels about that. On the one hand, he was alone with Steve and Jensen playing cards and that turned out better than expected. On the other hand, the last time Steve and he were really alone…they had sex. Is that what Steve wants? Is this finally it?

Of course Christian will have sex with Steve, he has sex all the time, but he doesn’t really like to think about it. But now he’s got the whole day to sit and do just that. His skin crawls thinking about it.

Steve doesn’t know how he feels about that either. Christian hasn’t exactly been on his best behavior with Steve’s mom still at the house, but having his mom there curtails Steve’s own behavior. He just doesn’t want to hurt Christian again, but he can’t help that he feels more than friendship.

Steve tries a grin and then grabs his keys before leaving. Christian sits there for a minute, feeling out of place and dreading returning to his room having nothing to think about but the inevitable and what a slut he is.

Maybe she can see his reservations on his face, because Steve’s mom doesn’t start to do the dishes. Instead she offers a distraction, “Hey, you wanna help me sort and fold some laundry while we watch tv?”

The time passes more quickly than Christian would have thought with something to do with his hands and the sound of the television drowning out his thoughts.

After lunch though, she goes into her bedroom to get ready to go out and then there’s nothing left but the sound of the television and it’s not enough to stop Christian’s thoughts any longer.

Steve arrives home shortly after two. He hates that he always gets the opening and closing shifts just because he doesn’t complain as much as everyone else about them. It doesn’t mean he likes them anymore than anyone else. Still nowadays he does like that it gives him the rest of the day with Christian.

He’s had a lot of time to think while at the store, to think about Christian smiling and laughing at him and singing and telling him about wrestling and chocolate chip cookies, to think about what Christian needs instead of how Steve feels. Now if he can actually put it into practice.

He opens the front door to find Christian on the couch in the living room instead of hiding in any of the bedrooms and he can’t help but think that it’s a good sign. If Christian is mellow then Steve has a better chance of acting normal. He smiles in welcome and plops down on the couch.

So maybe he can’t think of anything to say and he’s still watching exactly how much distance is between them, but they settle in and Christian seems comfortable as they just watch tv for maybe an hour until Steve’s mom comes out of her bedroom dressed a little nicer than usual, the smell of her perfume wafting towards them as she moves past the couch.

“Ok, boys,” she says as she comes to stand to the side of the tv. “I’m gonna head out. There’s some chicken in the refrigerator and veggies, should be everything you need.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Christian says, his voice blending with Steve’s own answer, “Have fun.”

They both sit in a silence for a moment after the door closes, both waiting for the other to speak. Christian knows what he’s supposed to do but most guys just take, just push him to his knees, so he spends a moment trying to psych himself up.

“So should we make the cookies first?” Steve says with awkward enthusiasm. While sitting at work, he definitely decided that things would be easier if they had something to do instead of both of them sitting around hating themselves.

“Huh?” is the immediate answer out of Christian’s mouth. “Cookies? You mean, we’re really gonna…I don’t bake.”

Steve just giggles at Christian’s eloquence, unable to continue his worrying when faced with the dumbfounded expression on the other teen’s pretty face. He doesn’t love baking either, doesn’t think that it allows for any of the creativity that he loves about cooking. But everyone loves cookies, right? And he’s still hoping that it will get Christian talking more about his past, his mom. Maybe if he just understood more about what Christian is thinking.

“Well you’re going to learn today. C’mon.”

Steve claps a hand down on Steve’s knee before standing and waiting for Christian to join him. Steve’s determined not to not touch Christian because the other teen would undoubtedly read that as rejection. Christian’s blue eyes still show confusion and mistrust, but he stands anyway. Steve reminds himself that that’s the whole point. Christian may not trust him yet, but he needs to show that he’s worthy of trust, over and over again until Christian really understands.

Christian is kinda stunned as he watches Steve take ingredients out of the fridge and the cupboards. He feels put on the spot again, like it’s one of Jeff’s tests. He doesn’t want to look foolish in front of Steve, doesn’t want to disappoint Steve. It’s inevitable that he will, though, that’s what he is, disappointing.

**Chris is eleven at Middle School wrestling practice. There are people all around but he can’t hear or see anything that’s not the mat and his opponent. Seeing weakness, Chris moves in, pinning the other boy to the mat in a matter of heartbeats.

The smile tugs at the corners of his lips before he even thinks about letting Kevin up. He can hear the other guys who were watching now, hear their impressed whispers at his move. Even Kevin looks at him with admiration as Chris sits back on his knees.

“Chris. What was that?” Jeff’s sharp voice cuts through Chris’s pride like a knife.

The whole room quiets as Jeff speaks. “That is not the move I taught you. Just because it worked today on…Kevin here, you have to do it correctly if you want to win.”

Hating that look of disappointment in Jeff’s dark eyes, Chris looks to the mat and nods. As soon as he stands, he feels the large hand on his shoulder.

“Coach Morgan…” David tries to interrupt.

“Not now,” Jeff says darkly, leading Christian aside. Sighing, the sound more painful to Chris than the man’s yelling, Jeff whispers. “Guess that’s what we’ll be working on this weekend.”

Jeff moves away easily, smiling again and watching other sparring partners take the mat.

Chris is unsurprised when David walks up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to smooth over Jeff’s critique, “Hey, that move was great…”

“Don’t,” Chris growls as he walks away.**

“Hey, c’mon Christian, it’s not that hard,” Steve’s voice interrupts Christian’s thoughts, coaxing him into moving again. “And I’m gonna help.”

Cautiously Christian approaches the counter and Steve puts a measuring cup and a bag of flour in front of him. “Just measure out five cups of flour.” Christian’s scowling at him as Steve turns away.

Steve worries about Christian’s reluctance as he gathers the other ingredients. Maybe this is stirring up bad memories, maybe Christian did bake with his mom. But then again, Christian is always surly at each new activity. Maybe Steve just needs to see this through. Steve feels like a great weight is sitting on his shoulders. If Christian doesn’t know what he needs, how is Steve supposed to know how to help?

“Fine,” Christian mutters since it’s obvious he’s not getting out of this. He tries to pour the flour slowly, but it’s too slow and as soon as he tries to readjust the bag in his arms, flour gets all over the counter.

Christian is utterly still in horror for a moment and it’s like time stands still too, until he’s bursting back into motion, setting the bag down and trying to scoop the excess flour into his hands. It’s only when he’s holding the flour in his cupped hands that he realizes that the damage has already been done, he can’t exactly just put the flour he’s holding back into the measuring cup. That’s when he looks up into Steve’s amused face.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…You know I suck at this and I…” Christian starts.

“Dude, it’s fine. We’ve got plenty of flour,” Steve cuts him off. Christian’s worry is somewhere between hilarious and heartrending, but Steve simply opens the trash can lid and directs Christian to dump the flour in. What the fuck is it about cookies that has Christian tied in knots? “You know they’re just cookies.”

As Christian dumps the now useless flour, he’s no longer remorseful, he’s pissed. At himself. They’re just cookies, Steve’s words resound in his head. Six year old girls can make them in plastic Easy Bake ovens for God’s sake. Why is he such a loser?

“Listen,” Steve says, trying to cut off Christian’s agitation before it really gets going. “Why don’t you try this smaller measuring spoon and you can just dip it in…”

“No,” Christian growls grabbing at the half-full measuring cup he was using. “I can do it.”

The words make Christian sound like a petulant five year old, and Steve has to swallow his annoyance and inclination to coddle the other teen. Steve figures that Christian has been on the street for what, two years? And if his problems started before then, who knows how long Christian hasn’t had anyone to help, to depend on. He wishes that he could just make things better for Christian, but doing things for Christian defeats the whole purpose, doesn’t it? The point was to do something together.

Steve nods absently, saying, “Ok, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

And Christian does, coaxing the flour out little by little by shaking and readjusting and shaking the bag some more. But it works and there aren’t any more accidents. He measures out the sugar next while Steve gets together the wet ingredients.

“Great,” Steve says smiling like he means it and Christian can’t help a small smile on his own face in response. “So just pour in that bag of chocolate chips…well, maybe we’ll eat a couple first.” Steve laughs as he reaches a hand into the bag that Christian had just opened, stealing some of the chocolate chips.

Christian just stares at first, but then his face and stance softens and he grins. He even takes a small handful himself and eats them. Offering the bag one more time to Steve, Christian pours the chips in. Steve adds the wet ingredients and then hands Christian a wooden spoon.

“And then stir,” Steve says. Christian rolls his eyes but takes the spoon and begins mixing the ingredients thoroughly while Steve gets out some cookie sheets.

“And then…you just make little balls out of it,” Steve says with a little laugh as he reaches into the bowl. Christian watches as Steve rolls a ball of dough in his hands before placing it on the cookie sheet. Only after watching does Christian reach into the bowl.

Steve laughs a little harder as Christian puts down his first ball. It’s big, a lot bigger than the one Steve made. “They don’t need to be quite so big,” Steve says.

It shouldn’t surprise Steve when Christian clenches his jaw and reaches to grab the dough back. “No,” Steve says, blocking Christian’s hand. “That one will just be a big cookie.”

Christian’s eyes flicker with heat and Steve thinks he’s going to argue before Steve speaks again. “Really, they can be whatever size you want. Sometimes I like to make them big because then they stay soft in the middle.”

Eyes hard, Christian seems to be considering the sincerity of his words before he nods a little and reaches back into the bowl to make a much smaller ball. They empty the bowl, filling up the sheets and then Steve slides the sheets in the oven.

Setting the timer on the table, Steve says, “That’s it.”

Despite the finality of the statement, Steve’s grinning big like he’s got a secret that Christian’s gonna like and grabbing the bowl. “Now we lick the bowl.”

Steve’s already got a finger in the bowl before Christian realizes he’s serious and then Christian is laughing a little gruffly. But he sticks his own finger in to scoop some of the batter when Steve pushes the bowl at him.

They stand there in the kitchen passing a bowl of batter back and forth and Christian thinks it feels really nice, like when his Dad was still alive and his momma actually make cookies and let him and Jenny lick the bowl. And with Steve there all light and innocence, laughing eyes and spit-slick pink lips, Christian thinks those memories don’t hurt as much only a dull cold ache rather than a fierce hot pain. Steve makes him feel included.

Finished with the bowl, they wash their hands again. Steve is handing Christian the towel when a thought occurs to him. “We need music,” Steve says before moving over to the stereo in the living room area. Christian realizes that he kinda likes the open floorplan of Steve’s house, unlike the houses that Christian had lived in which had separate rooms for the kitchen and living room and foyer.

“You know The Band, right?” Steve asks, picking up a CD.

“Yeah,” Christian answers. “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down is a classic.”

Steve smiles back at him knowingly, before putting the CD into the machine. He brings the remote over to the table too. “My Dad loves it too.”

Changing the subject as soon as he sees Christian’s expression, Steve says, “Let’s see what mom left us for real food.”

Christian shakes his head as Steve is already scrounging around in the fridge. “Looks like we’ve got chicken breasts and vegetables. Guess we’re having a simple dinner tonight.”

“Whatever’s fine,” Christian says without thinking, without thinking that it didn’t really matter what he wanted. He was just so caught up in Steve acting like they were friends or something.

Steve decides to wait the couple of minutes to make dinner until the cookies have come out and instead gets the jug of milk out and sets it on the table before reaching for glasses. “Can’t have cookies without milk,” Steve says cheekily.

“Actually I think you’d have cookies with anything,” Christian replies.

Pretending to think it over for a minute, Steve says, “True.” He laughs before saying, “But didn’t you have milk when your mom made cookies?”

“Yeah, but I was like eight,” Christian snorts.

Steve’s smile kinda freezes on his face. Didn’t Christian say his father died when he was eight? That was when the cookies stopped? But Christian said that he’d only been on the streets two years, so what happened between eight and fifteen? It seems odd to Steve that Christian’s mom would have just thought her kids were too old for cookies.

“Please, you’re never too old for milk and cookies,” Steve says, covering his thoughts.

Christian is laughing and opening his mouth to reply when the timer dings. The sound brings back his nervousness, his worry that he probably fucked everything up and they’re inedible. It doesn’t occur to him that the batter tasted ok.

Steve tosses him an oven mitt and they take the baking sheets out and put them on the counter. “My mom always lets them sit on the sheet for about a minute before taking them off,” Steve explains even as he’s setting up the cooling racks for the cookies.

Christian just stands there wearing one oven mitt and staring at the cookies like he’s trying to figure out which wire to cut. He decides not to waste his breath by telling Christian again that they’re just cookies. Obviously the whole thing is more than that to Christian who seems to be fairly sensitive to criticism, at least from Steve.

Steve gets two spatulas and hands one to the other teen. “Just kinda scrape them off,” Steve shrugs at his own explanation before he demonstrates.

Christian feels little stupid scraping cookies, but his face doesn’t turn red until he realizes that Steve has the sheet with his stupid giant cookie on it. He’s already finished with his sheet and just stares at Steve who only has the giant one left.

He’s waiting for Steve to look at him with those hard eyes that Jeff had always had when watching Christian at wrestling, he’s waiting for judgment. He’s waiting to be found lacking.

Steve cuts the cookie in half with his spatula and picks up both pieces. He turns to Christian, holding out the other half and saying, “You’ve got to eat at least one while they’re hot.”

Christian watches. Steve’s eyes are still warm as he looks at Christian and his lips are still pink and inviting as they close around the cookie and then they’ve got chocolate on them and Steve makes a ‘mmmm’ noise as if he’s really enjoying the stupid thing.

Without thinking, Christian surges forward, pressing his lips against Steve’s. It only lasts a second before Christian pulls back, a little horrified at his actions but there’s the taste of Steve and chocolate on his lips and he can’t help licking the tastes off.

Steve’s stunned and happy, licking the chocolate off of his own lips and catching the barest taste of what he recognizes as Christian. The kiss was nothing like their earlier ones, had none of the skill that Christian had earlier shown in the bedroom. It was just Christian’s full lips smushing against his like a kid would do, but Steve instantly recognizes that it was more genuine than anything that Christian and he had done earlier. It makes him smile like yesterday is completely forgotten.

Christian is still staring in fear though. He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t meant to start anything. Steve was just being so nice, and making Christian feel so comfortable. Christian’s hand twitches against his thigh, itching to just reach for Steve’s waistband, to pull down Steve’s jeans and pull out his cock. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to be doing, he thinks, nevermind that he also kinda wants to erase the sweet taste of the kiss from his lips.

But Steve just takes another bite of cookie and hands the other half to Christian. Feeling as if he’s lost the plot, Christian takes the cookie half warily. Steve is reaching for his glass of milk before Christian manages to take a bite, not wanting to make a big deal out of the kiss at all. It’s not sexual, just simple affection and every time Christian reaches out, Steve falls more in love.

“So are they as good as your mom’s?” Steve asks.

Christian’s eyes are sad as he says, “Not quite.”

“Ahh well, we can always try again,” Steve says.

They both drink most of the glasses of milk before Steve is rummaging in the refrigerator again. “So chicken…feel like helping some more?”

Christian’s laugh is a little self-deprecating as he says, “Hopefully I’m better at cooking than baking. Because I’m no good at baking.”

Steve’s now getting out pans and knives and cutting boards and Reynolds Wrap and Christian thinks that this is looking more like something he wants to learn. Waving Christian over, Steve stands the other teen in front of a sheet of foil with a chicken breast on it.

“We’re just gonna have some simple baked chicken. First you rub on a little olive oil,” Steve says. He pours a little in Christian’s hands and then his own left hand before showing Christian how to rub the oil into the chicken. “Then I like a little garlic, and some Italian spices, and some pepper flakes if you like a little spice.”

Christian nods his head at the last and then they fold the foil around the chicken and stick it in the oven. Then they’re washing their hands again and Steve is setting Christian in front of the cutting board. He looks at the vegetables, squash, zucchini, mushrooms, onions, and fresh garlic.

“Ok, so I’m guessing you don’t know how to cut vegetables?” Steve asks, hoping that Christian doesn’t take that the wrong way, but Christian nods easily without taking offense.

“Ok,” Steve says. Suddenly nervous, Steve steps behind Christian and wraps his hand around Christian’s so that they’re both gripping the knife. He tries to keep it as platonic as possible with space between their bodies as Steve reaches out for the first vegetable. Slowly they go through the motions together, until Christian’s left hand is coming up to hold the vegetable himself. “That’s it.”

Christian stiffens at the heat of Steve along his back, but he’s not much worried that Steve is doing more than showing him how to cut vegetables. Jeff was often in his space to show him wrestling moves and Jeff never did like Christian’s focus to be broken even by sex. Still he can’t help but be distracted because Steve confuses him. Hell, Christian’s own thoughts about Steve confuse him. So far, Steve hasn’t berated him or been rough, and they’ve only had sex once and this may be their only shot for a while and Steve just doesn’t seem to care.

So Christian tries to focus on doing it right, cutting a pile of vegetables and especially onions because he likes those.

Steve has poured more oil in a pan and is heating it up when he looks over at Christian’s pile. “Like onions?” he asks.

Christian’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and looks down sheepishly. “Yeah, what of it,” Christian mock growls.

“Nothing. I like onions,” Steve teases. He’s hoping that the fact that Christian is showing a preference is a good sign that he’ll be eating tonight. “Dump ‘em in.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Steve sprinkles some pepper on the veggies and then he’s dividing them amongst two plates. Then the foil packets come out of the oven, the chicken breasts are speared with forks and placed on the plates alongside the veggies.

Christian is watching avidly despite himself and Steve puts the plates on the table. “Did you want juice to drink?” Steve asks.

“That’s fine,” Christian says.

“Can you get the cups? They’re in that cupboard,” Steve says. He hopes that getting Christian more involved will make the other teen more comfortable, will make Christian treat this house as home.

Christian feels guilty then for not helping more when he’s already eating their food and wearing Steve’s clothes and everything. He obediently gets the cups and places them on the counter beside the fridge so that Steve can pour them both some juice. But Christian makes sure then to grab the cups and place them on the table besides the plates. He’s just so unsure of what he should and shouldn’t be doing and he hates that. He’s felt like that since his Dad died.

Even though it’s only two of them, they sit side by side as usual. Christian picks up his fork promptly because he really does want to taste what the two of them made.

“Better eat up or I’ll consider it an insult to my cooking and my teaching ability,” Steve says with a laugh before eating a piece of squash.

Christian lifts a piece of squash and onion to his own mouth. He doesn’t normally really enjoy vegetables, but he actually enjoys these. They still taste like vegetables but they’re good. The chicken is even better with the pepper flakes. Before he knows it, Christian’s stomach actually hurts with fullness.

Steve’s watching as Christian sets down his fork with a slight grimace before he reaches for the juice and takes a small sip. Christian hasn’t eaten a whole lot, but he’s certainly eaten more than normal and combine that with the batter and half a large cookie…

“Feeling ok?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Christian says immediately. “It was really good. Guess you can cook and teach alright.” Christian smiles and grips the fork again.

“You don’t have to eat the whole thing, I was just kidding. You full?”

“Yeah,” Christian admits putting down the fork and darting a glance at Steve’s face.

“That’s fine. But that means it must’ve been good right?” Steve questions hopefully. He just really wants to believe that this all worked out, that he did the right thing. He wants to believe that this can get better for Christian, that he can make it better even though he feels totally lost.

Christian rolls his eyes and says, “Yes, it was good. How much more ego stroking are you going to need?”

Steve barks out a surprised laugh, thankful that he was drinking or eating anything. Christian just grins unrepentantly. The CD runs out and it’s silent for a minute as Steve finishes eating. Then they just put the cooled cookies in a plastic bag.

When they head back to the living room couch to watch some tv, Steve can’t help scooting a little closer. Things went so much better than he had thought they would. Cooking calms him so it was easier to be calm in the face of Christian’s bad temper. But Christian got into it too, into the cooking, into just hanging out with Steve. And Steve is going to be reliving that kiss for a while despite telling himself not to. He can’t control the way he feels, but he can control his behavior.

Christian’s certain that this is it this time, that now is when Steve is going to lean forward and kiss him or tell him to strip or push his head down into Steve’s lap. But as he turns his head towards Steve, angling himself to be ready for whatever Steve wants, he’s surprised when Steve just settles deeper into his seat and flips through the tv channels.

He’s shifting uncomfortably when Steve just starts talking. “Dude, there is nothing good on tv in the summer. You would think it would be the opposite, that new stuff would come on in the summer when kids are out of school and hiatus would be in the fall when we have stuff to do and games to watch. Wonder if there’s a baseball game on…”

Christian slowly relaxes, getting used to the feel of Steve along his side, getting used to the idea that apparently nothing is going to happen tonight. At least until Steve’s parents come home.

Steve cannot figure it out. The way Christian acts around his Dad…if it wasn’t Christian’s Dad then who was it? Is it just that he reminds Christian of all those older guys in the park who took advantage? Why did Christian act that way with those guys anyway? Is it that Steve’s Dad reminds Christian of the loss of his own father? The not knowing is the worst part. Steve could do all the research in the world, but he needs to know what Christian is thinking, not what kids like Christian might be thinking.

“Hey, these cookies are good,” his Dad says, coming to stand beside Steve’s side of the couch and looking at the game on the tv. “Who’s winning?” he asks casually in between bites of cookie.

Steve is certain that Christian doesn’t realize that he’s pressing closer into Steve’s side now. Even though that puts him actually closer to the man, Christian instinctively moves to Steve. But Steve hates that he has no idea what to do, how to convince Christian that his Dad isn’t a threat, because Steve doesn’t want his Dad to just have to stay away all the time.

And Steve hates that he enjoys Christian huddling close even though it’s because Christian is scared. And he hates that he couldn’t just wrap Christian up in his arms. What he feels for Christian is simple, so why is everything so complicated?  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Steve turns off his alarm and groans. His bed is so warm and comfy, he doesn’t want to get up. He doesn’t even really have to get up, doesn’t have to be at work until 2pm. But he does in fact have to get out of bed because otherwise Christian will be stuck inside his bedroom like it’s a cage, a cage of Christian’s own fear, fear of something Steve doesn’t even know. With another groan, Steve manages to haul himself out of bed.

Christian is pacing the short distance between the bed and the door. He’s almost certain that that man isn’t out there. Almost. And that’s the part that has him pacing. Maybe the man’s late for work, maybe he’s taking a sick day, maybe…It’s stupid, he knows that Steve’s mom is out there and surely nothing will happen even if that man is home. Christian just thinks that it’s the fact that Steve wants him that keeps the man away. Steve wouldn’t want to share, Jeff didn’t. Christian just wants it to be clear to the man that Steve had him first.

He practically jumps out of his skin when the knock on the door comes, the worry and anticipation. But it’s just Steve looking sleepy and still happy to see him.

Breakfast is easy and familiar and Christian finds that weird. Everything has a price, comfort is a negotiation. After they eat, Steve leads Christian outside carrying the guitar.

And that’s easy and comfortable too. The banter passes between them centering on the music, when and where they heard a particular song, in the car, at the store, with a friend, alone. Steve’s trying to ask about the past without asking any painful questions, at least not yet.

After a few hours of playing and talking, they eat lunch and cookies and sit around the table listening to Steve’s mom talk about her blog and the recipes she creates and the comments she gets before Steve has to get dressed for work.

But as soon as the door closes behind Steve, Sandy is looking at him apologetically across the table, saying, “Sorry, sweetie, but today I need to actually work on my blog on the computer. You can watch either of the tvs or play with Steve’s computer or game or play his guitar, books…”

“I’m fine, ma’am. You don’t need to worry about entertaining me,” Christian says with a guilty flush at the thought that she has spent almost a week doing just that.

She gives him a sad smile as she stands up from the table. It’s an expression he’s seen her wear a lot and he likes it about as much on her face as he did on his own momma’s. But as she rounds the table she bends down to give him a kiss on the top of his head, and she murmurs, “No trouble at all.”

“And help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” she continues as she moves away. “Drinks and cookies and chips, whatever.”

Christian just sits at the table as he watches her go into the music room/office. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with himself. He should probably just go hide himself back in Steve’s room or something, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t feel like he needs to so he just sits and thinks. Feeling a tad bored, he looks around the room and his eyes are inevitably drawn to Steve’s guitar case leaning against the wall outside Steve’s room.

He really shouldn’t for so many reasons, because it’s Steve’s, because he left that behind in Oklahoma, because it reminds him too painfully of the family that he no longer has or deserves. But once the idea is in his head, it’s just impossible to get it out. He never was very good at controlling his impulses.

Slowly he stands and moves toward it, looking around like Steve, or more likely Steve’s mom, is going to pop out and catch him, berate him for touching it. But nothing happens as he finally puts his hands on it.

He decides to go outside to play without really thinking about it, Steve has never played it inside the house anyway. Ok, he admits he doesn’t really want an audience for this either, because he probably sucks first of all, but it’s also kinda personal.

Taking the guitar reverently out of the case, Christian cradles it against his body. It’s beautiful just like Steve, and Christian can’t held running his hands over its smooth contours. But now that he’s holding it, he actually has a hard time thinking of anything to play.

It’s easier to try and remember the songs that Steve has played for him so he thinks back to those first times in the park. Even then, it takes him awhile before his fingers make anything close to a melody.

Finally something like the strains of "Dixie on My Mind" can be heard, but Christian runs through the song a few times before he opens his mouth to sing. It’s hard at first, hard to maneuver his fingers, hard to coordinate singing with playing, but he works at it until it’s not too bad.

He plays "Fire on the Mountain" next just like Steve had done that first day that they had sat together in the park. It takes him another while to get that one decent.

He plays and he remembers his Dad’s dark eyes smiling at him, remembers the man’s deep laugh. He remembers what his momma looks like happy and content instead of weary and downtrodden. He remembers Steve sitting in the sun at the park entirely focused on the music his fingers made. He wishes that he could figure out how to play the songs that Steve had written.

He’s playing "Western Skies" when he hears the door open followed immediately by the sounds of Steve’s voice asking, “Can you play Lynyrd Skynyrd’s "Simple Man"?”

Christian is blushing as he Steve sits down beside him. He can’t believe he so lost track of time that it’s been four hours since Steve had left. But now that he does think about it, his hands really hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Christian says pathetically.

“I told you that you could play my guitar anytime you wanted,” Steve answers.

“No, I mean for lying, saying I couldn’t play,” Christian explains.

Steve chuckles that Christian thought he or anyone would believe that line, and says, “You never lied. You said you didn’t not that you couldn’t.”

Then Steve reaches a hand out to Christian’s face and pulls the other teen close enough that he can press a kiss to Christian’s temple. He’s happy that Christian is finally playing the guitar but he’s even happier that Christian doesn’t seem to want to lie to him. Maybe Christian does trust him. Or maybe, even if Christian doesn’t trust him yet, he wants to just like Mary said.

Christian goes stiff at the contact but Steve releases him easily. “Play "Simple Man" before mom’s finished with dinner,” Steve says again.

And because Christian’s can’t seem to deny Steve anything, he closes his eyes and concentrates on playing the song that he has always loved. By the time he looks up again, he’s blinking back tears.

Steve gives him time, lets Christian put the guitar carefully back in its case and carry it back inside. It’s not a surprise that Christian doesn’t eat a lot at dinner, but it is nice when they spend the rest of the night pressed close together on the couch.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&7

Steve doesn’t work the next morning either, but it’s easier to get out of bed because he has a plan for the morning. Christian has spent entirely too much time in his house, and frankly so has Steve. He doesn’t have to be at work until two, which gives them plenty of time to say, go see if Jensen is working at the coffee-shop. Hell even if Jensen’s not working it’ll be something to do.

Steve wants to be the center of Christian’s world, wants to be needed, to be the one to see Christian unguarded, the one that Christian trusts and talks to. But he’s not so selfish that he doesn’t see that Christian needs more than him, that no one can put all their trust and hope and energy into just one other person. Everyone needs friends, needs to know that others care about him, others who haven’t slept him with him in particular.

He mentions the plan as casually as he can over breakfast. “Hey you wanna get out of the house for a little while? We can go see if Jensen is at the coffee-shop.”

Christian swallows his mouthful of food. He worries about seeing Jensen again. After the way Christian acted, Jensen probably doesn’t want to see him, and Christian doesn’t really want to go out to places he doesn’t belong. But it’s easier to just say yes at this point, easier to just give Steve what he wants. He doesn’t want to fight with Steve.

So Christian looks down at the borrowed jeans and tshirt he’s wearing and puts on his old worn shoes and gets in the car beside Steve. It’s familiar and alien. Jeff drove him around sometimes, took him to restaurants and stores and the park, but sitting beside Steve doesn’t feel quite like that even though Christian does feel a mix of agitation and comfort just like with Jeff. But Christian doesn’t feel as forced, as helpless with Steve maybe because of their similar age. It’s not at all like riding in the car with his momma and Jenny or even riding with David in the backseat. He doesn’t feel that sense of isolation, of secrecy that he used to with them.

The record store is on the way to the coffeeshop so Steve goes ahead and stops there. If there is one person besides Jensen than Christian would probably like it’s Jason and Jason just so happens to be working the morning shift today.

“Hey,” Steve says turning to Christian as he pulls in the parking lot. “This is where I work. It’s not very exciting but I thought you might want to see the place I spend so much time at.”

Christian gets out of the car, hiding his blush. Steve’s words make him feel jittery inside, that Steve thinks Christian should get to know about his work, his friends. That and watching the stars and the kiss over cookies and Steve’s affection and they haven’t even had sex since that one time, it’s all mixed up in Christian’s head, swirling around in his chest. He likes Steve, kinda how he liked David, kinda how he liked Jeff, but also just different.

A little bell tinkles as they head inside and there’s another guy that Christian remembers from the park. Great.

“Steve, my man, what are you doing here?” Jason asks. “Hey, Christian.”

He says it all casual like it’s not a big deal at all that Christian is homeless and Steve can’t help but smile at the confused look it puts on Christian’s face.

“Decided to just stop by a minute, keep you and Will company. I know this will be the highlight of your day,” Steve teases as he puts his elbows up on the counter. “Hey Will, this is Christian. And that’s Jason.”

Will raises a hand in greeting which Christian returns in kind, but Jason is moving again to a stereo. “You like music, Christian?” Jason asks without even looking. In fact, he doesn’t even wait for a reply before he starts the CD and says, “Man, Chris, you’ve gotta hear the guitar in this guy’s stuff, whooo.”

Jason’s enthusiasm is infectious and neither Steve nor Christian is immune. Christian even takes the initiative to ask, “Who is it?”

“Joe Bonamassa, plays the blues,” Jason explains with a grin.

They listen for a minute in silence and Christian decides he really likes it and thus in turn kinda likes Jason.

“Hey,” Jason starts again when the song ends. “My Dad’s out of town this weekend, so it’s another party.”

Steve laughs before the worry hits him and he looks over at Christian, trying to judge his reaction. He doesn’t get a chance to ask though, when Jason speaks again.

“Yeah, you should totally come, Christian. It’s always a blast.”

Christian is embarrassed at being singled out and invited to Jason’s house, this guy he barely knows. Isn’t the guy afraid he’s going to steal something? “Yeah, ok,” he says, almost involuntarily agreeing.

Steve smiles. Suddenly it’s completely worth working all those opening shifts since he’s sure that’s why he usually gets off Friday nights and Saturday mornings. He thinks it’s a great idea for Christian to go to the party, to hang out, meet people, relax, have fun. It’s perfect. “Awesome. We’ll see you all tomorrow, then,” Steve says.

Christian waves goodbye as Steve ushers him back to the car, feeling awkward because Jason wasn’t awkward, which doesn’t even make sense in his own head. Jason really reminds him of David, like he can’t even see Christian’s faults.

The temperature’s getting warmer, perfect for a cold beverage as Steve then drives them over to the coffeeshop. It’s not until Steve is pulling into the parking lot that he realizes that Misha might be there. But it’s not like Steve can look for Misha’s car in the parking lot, and besides he already told Christian that they were going to the coffeeshop to see Jensen.

The first person that they see when they go inside is Jared, sitting at a table and drinking something large and undoubtedly sugary and far too caffeinated. But the fact that he’s here is a sign that Jensen probably has a break coming up.

“Hey, Jared,” Steve greets the other teen. “I don’t think you’ve really met Christian. Christian, Jared.”

Jared stands and Steve can see how Christian eyes follow the kid up before Jared attacks Steve, squeezing him in the usual huge hug of greeting.

“Hey,” Christian says gruffly, standing away. Steve can read the ‘don’t hug me’ vibes like they’re neon signs Christian is giving off. Jared’s not normally one for subtlety but fortunately it seems he can see them too, because Jared stands there looking like a puppy that’s been reprimanded, like he really wants to hug Christian anyway. Steve wonders what all Jensen has told Jared.

But all Christian can see is the awkwardness written all over the giant kid, as Jared says, “Hey, nice to see you again.” The seemingly friendly greeting only makes Christian clench his jaw harder as he thinks how stupid it is that Steve insists on introducing him to people. Everyone can see he doesn’t belong. Everyone is wondering why he’s with Steve, why Steve is even bothering with him. He hates it that this kid is staring down at him like he’s a pet project.

Steve sees that they’re both uncomfortable and lays a hand on Christian’s arm to lead him over the counter. “Let’s get something to drink.”

Jensen is behind the counter working the shift with some girl Steve’s never seen before and a quick glance tells him that Misha’s not around. “Hey guys,” Jensen says first.

“Hey, decided to take you up on your offer. Do you like coffee, Christian?” Steve asks, realizing he’s never offered coffee to Christian before.

Christian glares and shrugs and finally answers, “I don’t need anything.”

Steve huffs a little even though he should have been expecting as much. “Can we get two of those green tea crème things?”

“Sure,” Jensen says easily even though Steve knows that he must be seeing Christian’s uncooperative reaction. “I guess you’re safe from my concoctions today since I’m not making the drinks,” Jensen says to Christian.

Christian drops his eyes and then looks away from the counter because Jensen is doing that thing again, that thing where he talks directly to Christian like they’re old friends sharing a secret or something, like Jensen’s not just being nice to him to please Steve. He takes the cold plastic cup when Steve hands it to him, but doesn’t drink until Steve glares at him.

“You have a break coming up?” Steve asks.

“Sure do, just gimme a minute.”

“We’ll just go sit with Jared then,” Steve says even as he’s walking away.

“’K,” Jensen responds distractedly.

Jared is watching them as they walk back over, having obviously heard the plan and always happy to have company. But Christian turns deliberately away, giving Jared the cold shoulder. Childishly, Christian thinks if the huge kid doesn’t like him, he doesn’t like the kid either.

Steve sits down and waits for Christian to sit down beside him. “You and Jensen have plans today?” Steve asks as Christian plays with the drink he’s not drinking, keeping his eyes away from Jared.

Jared shifts with a last longing look at Christian before responding. “Nah, I just dropped by. My Dad is making me clean out the basement.”

Jensen comes over then with his own large caffeinated beverage and takes the seat beside Jared with an intimate smile. But Jensen takes one look at Christian and he shoots Steve a concerned glance. Steve just shakes his head because he’s not going to explain that Christian doesn’t like Jared for some reason. Instead he tries to get Christian to participate.

“So how’s the green tea?” Steve asks Christian. It doesn’t exactly get the response he was hoping for as Christian puts the straw in his mouth quickly like Steve was chastising him.

Jared pops in then, obviously trying to win Christian over. “That’s one of my favorites, sweet and refreshing, but it’s better when Jensen makes it.”

Christian doesn’t notice the adoring look that Jared shoots Jensen as he snaps, “Maybe you should try something caffeine-free.”

Steve’s a little startled by the outburst and he can tell that Jensen is too. None of them know what to say because Jared doesn’t deserve to be treated like that but none of them can bear to chastise Christian, not after all that Christian has been through, not when they’re trying so hard to be supportive, to be Christian’s friends.

Christian doesn’t say anything else but he can feel the disapproval in the silence. Fine, he’s an ass, that’s not exactly news to him. Christian sets his drink down because he’s done playing along. He doesn’t belong here.

He sees Jensen shoot an apologetic look at Jared and that just makes him feel worse that Jensen thinks he has to apologize for him, like they think he just can’t help himself. He’s not terribly surprised when Jensen changes the conversation as if Christian hadn’t spoken.

“Are you working today?” Jensen asks Steve.

“Yeah but not til two,” Steve says, only too happy to play along.

“Working with Jason?” Jensen continues.

“No, Jason’s working now. We stopped there on the way here and he’s having another party this Friday,” Steve replies, shooting a questioning glance at Christian who completely ignores him.

“Awesome, we’ll be there too,” Jensen asks, picking up the conversation slack for Jared who’s now seemingly too embarrassed to talk. “Is it weird our social life tends to revolve around his Dad’s schedule?”

Jared laughs a little at the question too, saying, “That’s because his Dad’s place is awesome.” But the words are quiet and directed mostly at Jensen.

Christian shifts uncomfortably. He really just wants to get out of here, he wants to crawl in a hole and never come out, and back in the park, he basically was in a hole and no one bothered him. As much as he likes Steve, at this moment, he just wants to go back there. He didn’t ever want to have anyone to disappoint again.

But Jensen’s break is ending and he stands with a sigh, telling them all goodbye before he leans over to give Jared a quick kiss that leaves them both smiling stupidly.

Christian notices this time and is surprised. Steve’s gay, and they’re gay? And they’re together, and they’re all…happy. He looks away quickly from the intimate moment and follows Steve back to the car. They go through a drive-through for lunch, Christian just telling Steve to order whatever since he isn’t going to eat it anyway. He’s thinking too hard. In the end, he excuses himself into the guest bedroom before Steve has even left for work.

Christian knows he’s gay, too, much as he wishes he wasn’t. When Jeff first touched Christian, Jeff said it was because he loved Chris, that that was what people did who loved each other. But Jeff also told him not to tell anyone else, told him that it would be seen as favoritism and if people found out then Jeff couldn’t help his family anymore, then Christian couldn’t wrestle anymore. Jeff said no one else would understand.

He always knew it didn’t feel right, though. He knew that adults weren’t supposed to touch kids down there. But Jeff told him he was special, Jeff told him he was too pretty, and Christian knew it was his fault. He wanted Jeff to like him, he wanted to be special to someone. He’s just a slut who spread his legs and let Jeff do whatever he wanted because that’s all that anyone would ever love him for.

And yeah, he remembers he looked at other kids and wondered what it would be like to have sex with them, but Christian can’t honestly remember if he thought they were hot. They were just there, Susie smiling at him in class, Lucas beneath him during wrestling practice.

But David…he was always talking about girls, pointing them out to Christian and Christian didn’t really feel anything about it. Then at twelve, David started actually dating these girls, kissing them behind the bleachers and in his room, the same room Christian hung out with David in. That’s when he started to worry if he was gay.

**Chris is twelve, shorthaired and thin. He’s out at a pizza place with the wrestling team aferh they win another meet, celebrating. Jeff is at another table, talking with some of the parents who come to the meets, but Chris can feel the dark eyes on him though he’s surrounded by the guys, his so-called friends.

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Chris says, pushing away the slice that David is trying to give to him.

“Dude, that’s so gay. What’re you, watching your figure?” David teases.

But Chris’s breath catches in his throat, choking him for a minute. He’s suddenly afraid that everyone can see what’s going on with Jeff.

“No,” Chris finally chokes out vehemently. “I’m not fucking gay, you dickwad. Why don’t you shove that pizza up your ass and see if you like it?”

Practically shuddering with anger and fear, Chris pushes Kevin out the end of the booth and runs to the bathroom. He can feel their accusing, disgusted eyes on his back as he goes, as clearly as he can feel Jeff’s concerned eyes.**

When David started to date, Christian realized he’d only been with Jeff, and he didn’t want to talk about Laura and Erin all the time, certainly didn’t want to invite them to eat lunch with him and David and the other wrestlers. He started wondering what if…what if Jeff had turned him gay? What if Jeff touching him…what if now he couldn’t like girls?

He was twelve and her name was Caroline. She was fourteen and only too willing to meet up with Coach Morgan’s protégé, a star wrestler in the making in a wrestling town. All the guys talked about how she had sex with all the wrestlers on the Varsity team. Christian remembers doing everything to her that Jeff did to him, all the things that Jeff wanted Christian to do, and she bucked and writhed, small and curvy in his arms.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t get it up, but he wasn’t thinking of the small body in his arms when he came. Christian came fantasizing about being held down, fantasizing about being fucked. Panicked, he slept with Ashley to be sure.

But sleeping with her didn’t change anything. He’s gay. It was all his fault. Jeff must have seen that he was gay, that he wanted it. Sure, Christian never went over to Jeff’s hoping that Jeff would touch him, but some of the things that Jeff did…well, they felt good. They had felt good since the beginning. And by eleven years old, he would cum, little spurts of milky bitter fluid just like Jeff and Michael. If he came, he must have wanted it, he figured. He realized then that he must be gay.

And he couldn’t let anyone find out, if they knew…if they knew he was gay, then they might figure out about Jeff. He knew by then that he’d get in a lot of trouble for telling on Jeff. He thinks still about the way the other guys would have looked him, a whore who got their favorite coach in trouble, the way the town would have looked at him for probably ruining their chances for the wrestling championship. But more he still thinks of the horror on David’s face if he had known that Chris let Jeff fuck him up the ass, the horror of his momma and sister, how much he let down his Dad…

But in LA, it just stopped mattering. Most people pretended not to see the homeless, not to see him, and they certainly didn’t care if he liked men to fuck him up the ass. The whole thing was a mute point. The knowledge couldn’t hurt anyone out here, he couldn’t hurt anyone out here.

But now, there’s Steve and his friends and they’re gay and they’re happy and they’re out. And Steve is fucking him. And he’s still not one of them. He’s still just the whore, a passing fling. But he guesses it still doesn’t matter if people know he’s gay since he’ll be back on the streets soon enough.

With that thought he falls asleep until Steve gets home and they eat dinner like they’re a family even though Christian is just a whore. Why is this so confusing?!  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next day things are tense from the beginning. Steve is suddenly unsure that going to Jason’s party is such a great idea. Christian has been ok in small settings, with certain people, but the incident with Jared just reminds Steve of how vulnerable Christian still is and how Christian is likely to strike out at others to protect himself.

And it’s obvious Christian is nervous. He only picks at his lunch and grunts in answer to most of Steve’s attempts to engage him in conversation. They play cards for a while after lunch to kill time but there’s not much talking. In desperation, Steve leads them outside to play a few songs on the guitar before they both take a shower and get ready to go.

Steve debates offering Christian some of Steve’s jewelry to wear to the party, but he’s pretty sure that Christian would say no. He also doesn’t want to make the party seem like a big deal, like something Christian needs to wear jewelry to.

Christian is tense as they head to the door. “You know we don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Steve offers quietly.

Christian’s head jerks up and he growls, “No, I told Jason I’d go and I’m gonna go.”

Steve just shrugs and heads for the car. Yeah, Christian’s nervous, Steve had said most of the guys that had been in the park that day would be at the party and he can’t say that he’s excited to see that one blonde dude again. He knows that everyone probably knows by now, knows that he’s homeless, knows that Steve’s keeping him and fucking him. Shit like that probably went around the gossip mill in a second.

But he’s not gonna hide. What does he care what they think? They’re not his friends and once Steve gets tired of him, he’s never gonna see any of them again. But Jason was nice to him and invited him, and Steve undoubtedly wants him to go.

Steve pops in a CD once the car is started, Zeppelin’s In Through the Out Door, trying to take both their minds off of the night ahead. If Steve can just avoid the pitfalls, it could still turn out alright he tells himself.

But they still both walk to the front door of Jason’s house with all the enthusiasm of men approaching the guillotine. As soon as the front door opens it’s all loud noises and the heat of a group of people moving in a small space. It suddenly feels oppressive to Steve as he looks at the situation with new eyes, and all he wants is to bundle Christian up and shuttle him back out.

Christian only went to a few parties back in OK. He ran away after the freshman year of high school so he didn’t have much opportunity. Still he remembers a little of how he acted then and he pulls that bravado over himself like a shield as he enters the house. He is very aware of Steve at his side, and it feels strange and comforting all at once. It’s hard to stay in that shield with someone by his side that knows him, knows about him, but at least if things get tense he can let Steve do the talking.

The first face Steve sees is Jensen wandering past with a plastic cup in his hand. “Oh hey, guys,” Jensen says seeming surprised to see them.

Christian manages a small almost-realistic smile and says a gruff, “Hey,” back. Steve shrugs his shoulders in response to Jensen’s surprise and immediately looks around for the big guy since if Jensen is here, Jared will be here too. He smiles as he sees Jared find them as the kid is about a head taller than the rest of the people here. Jared bounds right over to see them as soon as he sees them, parting the crowd like the red sea. Steve shares a smile with Jensen who looks stupidly happy at Jared’s enthusiasm right until they both realize what Jared is about to do.

“Christian,” Jared hollers, obviously a little drunk, and he wraps Christian up in a giant hug like he does to pretty much everyone. Except Christian isn’t everyone.

For a moment Christian is simply frozen. He feels suddenly small and trapped and helpless, and then he’s writhing like a trapped animal to get out of the hug before his brain catches back up from the past.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you freak?!” Christian yells, anger covering his fear as Jared backs away horrified. “Get off me!”

Christian slaps Jared’s hands away and then stands there shuddering with anger or fear, Steve can’t tell. Steve wants to reach out and place a comforting hand on Christian’s back, but he hesitates because Christian is so worked up he may mistake friend for foe.

Jensen’s expression is grim, stuck somewhere between horror and pity. He grabs Jared’s arm, saying, “How ‘bout we go in the living room? We’ll see you guys later.” Then Jensen is pulling the stricken Jared away.

Steve actually feels really sorry for Jared this time. The guy is just a big puppy and everybody loves him. Everybody but Christian, and Jared seems really hurt by that. He just hopes Jensen will smooth things over.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to smooth things over on his end as Steve takes a look at Christian’s stubborn clenched jaw. Christian was really scared of Jared, scared of being trapped and overpowered, and Steve doesn’t know what to do to make that right. He’s fairly certain that taking Christian in his own arms right now is the worst idea on the planet, no matter how much Steve wants to.

With false enthusiasm, Steve says, “Let’s go see if the girls are in the kitchen, ok? I know you’ll like them.” He watches as Christian runs a hand over his mouth and then reluctantly nods.

As they enter the room, Steve takes a chance and puts his hand on the small of Christian’s back, leading the other teen inside. It just feels right to have some contact. He’s hoping that the contact will comfort Christian so he won’t lash out again. And maybe he’s thinking he can just yank Christian back by his shirt if someone else tries to hug.

The first person they meet is Sophia which doesn’t surprise Steve. She’s usually in the kitchen because she takes it upon herself to see that everyone has a drink and food and whatever. Except for the whole alcohol part, she acts like the mommy of the party. Steve has often wondered why she acts like that.

“Hey, Sophia. This is Christian,” Steve introduces with a genuine smile.

But as Steve watches Christian’s reaction, he can see Christian pull on yet another mask, though this time it’s a charming smile with no teeth and his accent thickens as he says, “Nice t’meet ya, darlin’.”

Steve feels a surprising amount of jealousy as Sophia’s own smile widens in response to Christian’s charm. Deciding not to move his hand from Christian’s back right then, Steve thinks Sophia probably isn’t even aware of how she flirtatiously tucks a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. “You too, Christian,” she says. “You need a drink? And I think there’s pizza over there.”

“Aw, no thank you. I don’t think I need a drink just yet.” Christian says.

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t known he’d been holding. He didn’t really want Christian to drink, didn’t want to drink himself considering how volatile Christian can be without warning, but he wouldn’t have stopped Christian if the other teen wanted a drink. He’s not going to take away all Christian’s choices.

“Ok. How ‘bout you, Steve?” she asks.

“I’m good for now,” Steve responds easily.

Sophia has her mouth open to say something else when Danneel and Sandy walk up. “Steve,” Daneel cries. “Where have you been keeping the hunk?”

Sandy giggles in response, not so subtly looking Christian over, but Steve notices that there’s something sharp in Danneel’s gaze as she looks at him and not Christian. He knows that the girls have heard too, heard that Christian is homeless. Steve’s hand starts to tingle against Christian’s back as Steve understands what she’s looking so disapproving of. Steve is making it look like he and Christian are a couple. And if it looks like that to the girls, then it obviously looks like that to Christian.

Steve was supposed to be trying not to pressure Christian for anything like a relationship, was supposed to be taking a step back, trying to be a friend. But he can’t just jerk his hand away as if Christian is suddenly burning him. He wanted Christian to come tonight and make friends, but Steve can’t seem to let go, unfairly trying to protect his place in Christian’s life. He can feel himself flushing with shame.

“Christian, Danneel and Sandy,” Steve introduces them.

“Aww, they’re such a cute couple,” Sandy giggles.

Danneel’s glare is full-out when she turns it on Sandy who is oblivious to it as usual. Christian smile dims a little as he looks down with a huff of a laugh. These people think that they’re together together. That’s a new one to him. Jeff was possessive so Steve’s hand on his back doesn’t surprise him, but certainly no one knew about them. He’s always been a secret, fucking in bushes. People have never looked at him and known he’s gay.

But these people don’t know about Jeff. To them gay is Jensen and Steve, and Christian would punch anyone who made a gay joke about Steve. The little girl probably just thinks it’s sweet that Steve would let someone like Christian stay in his house, that Steve would spend time with him.

Steve is still spluttering, trying to make his tongue work, but fortunately, Danneel takes pity on him before he has to stumble out an awkward explanation of how they’re not really dating.

“C’mon,” she says to all of them in mock annoyance. “Pizza’s in the living room and so are Jason and Stephanie.”

Steve agonizes about taking his hand away from Christian’s back, but he does it as they enter the living room and see Jason and Stephanie snuggled in one armchair, Jensen and Jared in the other. Sandy and Danneel move to sit on the floor in the front of their chair. That leaves them to sit beside Tom and Mike on the couch. Luckily, the couch is pretty huge. Steve debates sitting on the floor by Christian’s feet for a moment, but instead, he takes the end seat, leaving plenty of room for Christian to sit between him and Mike. He’s surprised when Christian sits cuddled into his side.

Christian has no idea what he’s doing. But he knows he shouldn’t be doing it. These people already know what he is, what he and Steve are doing. And Steve is…nice. Christian likes Steve even though he knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t be trying to please Steve, shouldn’t like Steve’s attention. But it makes Christian feel kinda normal. They’re just another couple sitting on top of each other, just like Jason and his girlfriend and Jensen and the big freak. It’s not real, they’re not a real couple, but he can pretend for a minute.

Steve hates himself more that he enjoys Christian against him, even though he knows that Christian probably doesn’t mean it or understand it or something. But he can’t shove Christian off of him, even though Tom and Mike are staring at him with judgmental eyes. Yeah, he feels like an ass. He’s still thinking maybe he shouldn’t have brought Christian here, maybe this is just making things more confused for him. What Christian needs are friends, not a boyfriend.

“Yo,” Jason says, saluting them with his can of beer. “You made it. Don’t you need beers? Sophia!” he yells before Steve can protest.

“Dude, we’re fine,” Steve says. But it’s too late as Sophia comes into the room.

“What?” she gripes which Steve knows is a total act. She likes being needed.

“Nothing, we’re fine. We don’t need anything,” Steve says.

“You sure,” she asks with a look toward Christian. Steve can only hope Christian doesn’t notice the concern in the glance.

“You don’t need to worry about us, sweetheart,” Christian interjects. He likes the way she smiles when he talks, when he calls her sweetheart and darlin’. It makes him think that she doesn’t see him as totally damaged.

“If you’re sure,” she says sweetly to Christian and then shoots a glare at Jason as she walks back to the kitchen.

Jason just rolls his eyes and takes a drink from his can before saying, “Baseball’s on.”

Steve hasn’t even looked at the tv yet, and he doesn’t get to then because that’s when Misha walks into the living room. He can tell the moment that Misha spots them, snuggled together on the couch and Steve doesn’t need to look around the room to see that everyone else is staring at him too. He knows exactly what Misha is seeing.

Christian knows immediately that something is up, something that makes Steve tense up beside him and he also knows that for once it’s not because of him. So he’s not surprised when Steve says, “Christian, I’ll be right back. Just have to talk to a friend.” Then Steve is squeezing out and moving over to the guy who had just come into the room, a thin pixie-ish guy with dark hair.

He’s not overly worried about the fact that Steve wants to talk to this guy in private. He’s pretty certain that Steve has lots of things that he doesn’t want to share with Christian, but it’s the way everyone else is acting as Steve walks away with the guy. Everyone else seems to think it’s a big deal. But it’s not like he can just ask these people, Steve’s friends, what’s going on.

The bald kid, one of the guys that Christian had ‘met’ in the park blurts out, “I thought they broke up,” into the tense silence.

“Shut up,” Jensen says, and Christian can tell that Jensen says it for his benefit from the way Jensen glances at him. Whatever it is, they’re uncomfortable because they’re keeping it from him.

“Who broke up?” Christian asks, unable to help himself.

“It’s nothing,” Jensen insists sharply.

“It’s not a secret,” Tom says, his voice too reasonable and smug. “Or at least it shouldn’t be. Steve and Misha, uh, that guy he was with.”

Jensen is looking at him then like Christian’s about to shatter and Christian thinks that the guy is far too smart for his own good. Because Christian does feel shattered. He knew that this would happen, that Steve would toss him aside sooner rather than later, but it still hurts for some reason. He didn’t want it to be now. And worse, maybe that was the point of this whole thing, Steve took him in just to make Misha jealous…

Christian stands, not caring that everyone is looking at him now. He just needs to get away from these people.

Jensen scurries to get off of Jared and catch Christian, saying, “Christian, it’s not how you think. It was before you…”

But Christian just waves his hand at Jensen’s concern, already walking away, back to the kitchen as he realizes he doesn’t even know where the bathroom is in this place and if he walks out the front door, he has no idea where he is. Fortunately Jensen doesn’t follow and Christian hopes that he got the message that Christian doesn’t want his company right now.

Meanwhile, Steve is standing a hallway on the other side of the living room with Misha who is glaring at him. And Steve knows he deserves it. He pretty much feels lower than dirt at this point.

“You should have just told me there was someone else, Steve. Instead of telling me that we weren’t right for each other,” Misha accuses and Steve has never actually seen Misha mad before.

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve insists. “We’re not…” he helplessly gestures at Christian in the next room, but Misha cuts him off.

“That’s certainly what it looks like it is,” Misha interrupts.

Steve momentarily ducks his head in shame, before looking at Misha again and replying, “He needs me.”

Misha’s mouth forms an ugly sneer before Misha stills, his eyes going soft. “That’s the homeless kid everyone is talking about.”

Steve sighs even though he’s well aware that everyone knows. “Yeah, but none of this is his fault, ok? And we’re not together, not like that. He has…issues,” Steve finishes lamely, not knowing how much to say.

But Misha nods, still angry but sympathetic at the same time. “I bet.”

“We just weren’t working,” Steve maintains, pleading for Misha to understand.

“And you felt more for him, than for me,” Misha finishes, apparently understanding more than Steve would like.

Back in the kitchen, Christian is looking into the kitchen, seeing that there are already people in there. That squinty-eyed blonde kid is there, Chad or what-the-fuck-ever. He’s talking to Sophia who mostly seems to be laughing off whatever he’s saying.

At first, Christian is grateful that they’re not paying him any attention, but it’s not long until Chad gives up on winning over Sophia to his douchiness and turns to notice Christian standing there.

“Hey, it’s you, the homeless guy,” Chad says as he stumbles forward.

“Chad,” Sophia whispers harshly in warning, but Chad just keeps moving towards Christian who is leaning back against the counters hoping that the asshole will fall on his bony ass.

Chad stops momentarily and roots through his pockets before his eyes light up and he moves forward again, practically nose to nose with Christian who doesn’t want to make a scene but is thinking about dropping this guy.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks to blow me,” Chad slurs.

The words stop Christian’s anger in its tracks. Of course, they all know, know that he’s a worthless and pathetic slut that Steve is using for a little action in exchange for food and shelter. He doesn’t have any way to defend himself because it’s true. He’d blow a guy, even one as obnoxious as Chad for less than twenty bucks.

Chad keeps talking. “C’mon man, it’s twenty bucks. I know you do it, you gotta with that pretty face…you can go buy yourself a burger…”

Ducking his face down and away from Chad’s own, Christian swallows and doesn’t know what to do. He wants to just sink into the floor or disappear or just die and leave all this shit behind.

“Chad!” Steve yells out as he enters the kitchen in time to hear Chad’s slanderous words. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Dude, what?” Chad says, perturbed as Steve pulls him away. The kitchen is suddenly crowded, Jensen and Jared having followed Steve in to see the commotion too.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Come out here,” Steve drags Chad out of the kitchen and past Jensen and Jared who looks thunderous at his best friend.

Christian is left in the kitchen, now more ashamed than before if that’s at all possible for having to be rescued. Hearing a shuffling step, though, he lifts his eyes from the floor to quickly glance at who’s left in the room with him. Sophia is standing in the corner looking at him with guilty and pitying eyes. Great. But then he hears someone else and turns to see the ex, Misha coming towards him.

He can’t help cringing in anticipation of the outrage he thinks is coming, but he’s unprepared when Misha simply says, “Want a drink?”

Not responding at first, Christian watches warily as Misha pours two shots of clear alcohol on the counter by Christian’s left elbow. Then Misha turns away and grabs two cans of Coke.

“Here,” Misha offers, pushing one shot glass closer to Christian. “Thought you might want one.”

Suspicious, Christian turns to face the counter and picks up the glass. He wasn’t going to drink tonight, didn’t want to make a bigger fool out of himself than necessary but he supposes that it really doesn’t matter now. Maybe if he drinks enough he won’t remember any of this come morning.

He doesn’t wait for Misha, just tosses back the shot and opens the can of Coke. But he can’t help studying Misha a little as the other teen takes his own shot and makes a face, scrambling to wash the taste out of his mouth with the Coke. Christian chuckles soundlessly a little.

He can admit the guy is attractive enough in a twinky kinda way and obviously not a complete douche if he’s offering Christian shots and didn’t mention the little scene of a few minutes ago. Christian can’t help wondering what happened even though he knows he won’t ask Misha or Steve about it. Who dumped who? Why? What were they talking about before? Are they back together?

Christian knew, of course, that he was just sex to Steve, to everyone, and it’s a harsh reminder that Christian is too involved with Steve. It reminds him that he’s not normal, that there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He’s taking the next shot as soon as Misha’s poured it. He doesn’t want to be him anymore tonight, wants to forget Christian Kane even existed.

Misha seems to understand, shrugging before placing the bottle down on the counter between them and taking his own shot. Christian knows he should slow down, knows that alcohol is not going to solve his problems, but he likes the burn of it going down his throat, likes the warmth in his belly that replaces that cold, cramped feeling.

So he takes a third shot in as many minutes before concentrating on his own can of Coke, and leaning one hip on the counter.

“So you’re staying with Steve?” Misha asks out of the blue.

Christian immediately tenses, immediately aware of the implications, that he’s being kept by Steve, a fucktoy, that he’s using Steve for food and shelter.

“It’s not…it just kinda happened and I don’t, I’ll be gone soon enough,” Christian shrugs, but his glare is challenging. Misha drops his eyes easily and shrugs again. Transferring his glare to the bottle of what he can now see is vodka, Christian pours himself another shot. He hates these people and their houses and their stuff and their lives. He doesn’t need stuff, he tells himself. He doesn’t need anyone. He’s not like them and he never was and never will be.

His throat is still burning when Misha says casually, “We’re not getting back together, you know. But Steve’s a good guy, you should give him a chance.”

Glancing up, Christian sees that Misha is looking at him with a piercing gaze, like Misha sees everything that Christian is trying to hide. He doesn’t know what the guy is talking about, but he finds himself looking away again and taking a big gulp of his Coke to avoid replying.

Meanwhile, Steve has yanked Chad out into the hallway only to draw a complete blank on what to say. His anger has seemingly tied his tongue into knots, and it’s all pointless anyway. Steve can tell from Chad’s loose limbed stumbling steps that Chad isn’t going to understand or remember anything that he says.

Besides what if…what if it is all Steve’s fault? Everyone at this party knows that Christian was homeless and everyone thinks that he and Christian are having sex. Maybe Chad got the wrong idea? Maybe they’ve all got the wrong idea? Steve knows that he would never offer anyone food and lodging in return for sex, but what if that’s what they all think? And Steve knows that the fact that he thought Christian wanted it, wanted him sounds stupid even to his own ears.

Unfortunately for Chad, Jared steps forward and the anger on the usual gentle giant’s face is enough to have Chad’s squinty eyes widening.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Jared hisses before shoving Chad back against the wall in the hallway they’re standing in. “Seriously, man, I can’t even believe that you would do that to him, like you don’t know what that would do to the poor guy.”

Jared pushes Chad against the wall one more time before his anger seems to fade into frustrated resignation and he runs a huge ass hand through his shaggy hair. “At least if you were sober you’d know what a shitty thing that was to do to him,” Jared says finally.

It’s sweet that Jared’s defending Christian after everything Christian’s done to the guy, Steve thinks. Jensen moves then from Steve’s side over to Jared’s and laying a hand on the younger teen’s back.

Then Jared is turning sad, hang-dog eyes on Steve, saying, “I’m sorry, man. I…” Jared trails off suddenly and his eyes widen a little. “Where’s Christian? Is he ok?”

That gets all three of them moving again. Steve had only been thinking about getting Chad away from Christian and he just left the guy there in the kitchen alone. Shit.

By the time they make it back to the kitchen though, they see that Misha’s there talking Christian’s ear off about eastern philosophies versus western or at least that’s what Steve thinks Misha is talking about.

Christian doesn’t even see them re-enter the room. The warmth in his belly has spread to his limbs and he’s just listening to Misha’s voice washing over him. Who the fuck is this guy? Eastern philosophies, really? At a party?

He starts to giggle a little and has to put his Coke down when he feels a hand on his back. Startled, Christian knocks his hipbone against the counter before spinning around and knocking Steve’s hand away. Course that move has him swaying momentarily as his head keeps spinning.

Shit, Steve thinks. He knows better than to just touch Christian like that. “Hey, it’s just me, Christian,” he says gently as he moves his hands slowly back to Christian’s shoulders to stabilize him. It’s about then that he notices the bottle on the counter.

He can’t help shooting a glare in Misha’s direction and snapping, “Jesus, how much did you give him?”

Misha raises his hands in surrender before answering, “I let him pour. I just figured he needed a drink.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slips one arm completely around Christian’s waist. “C’mon, Christian, let’s go home.”

“What?” Christian says, scrunching up his face in confusion and pushing against Steve’s chest until there’s enough room between them that he can see Steve’s face. He likes that Steve doesn’t let go of his waist though. “I’m having fun. It’s a party.”

Steve doesn’t understand. After all this shit, Christian wants to stay? He looks at the J’s to see the same confused, concerned looks on their faces. Only Misha still looks serene.

Sighing, Steve wraps his other arm around Christian to haul him in closer again. “Ok, let’s go back to the couch, though.”

“Ok,” Christian says, melting into Steve’s body in a way that he never does. Steve likes how pliant Christian is and hates himself for it, especially as he can see his friends still watching them in concern. “Hey, here’s your Coke,” Steve says, grabbing the can from the counter.

Steve feels Christian’s hand brush against his holding the Coke, but then the hand drops and Christian’s head drops onto Steve’s shoulder. Christian’s lips brush Steve’s cotton button-down as he says, “Ok.”

He’s forgotten what Steve said or whether it was even a question, but Christian likes the feel of this, likes the feel of Steve holding him. He knows he shouldn’t, knows it won’t last and it’ll hurt when it ends, knows that Steve only does it so Christian will continue to spread his legs. Christian knows that this is what’s wrong with him, if he were stronger, if he weren’t so pathetic and needy, then he wouldn’t let every guy who looks at him fuck him.

He lifts his head blearily as Steve pulls him down onto the couch, but that’s even better, because he doesn’t have to stand up and now he and Steve are all tangled together.

Christian is curled up around Steve and Steve still has his arm around Christian’s waist. But Steve can feel the judgmental gazes on them from Mike and Tom, and even Jensen and Jared and Jason, hell, even Jason’s Stephanie probably thinks he’s a dick. And it’s not fair! It just happened this way. Steve can’t help that he fell for Christian even if Christian is homeless and fucked up, even when Steve knows that it’s not a good idea, not the right time. He’s not going to do anything else but he still can’t just push Christian away.

“Here, here’s your Coke,” Steve says quietly, waiting until he’s fairly certain that Christian has a hold on the can before letting go.

Steve is thankful, when Jason suddenly says, “Mike, give me the remote, you douche! There’s gotta be something better than this.”

That gets Jason and Mike arguing over the remote until finally Tom hands it over and then Mike bitches about every channel Jason puts the tv on. Some channels, though, Mike is not the only one complaining. Steve just likes that the attention is off him and Christian.

Christian drinks the last of his Coke and gives it back to Steve before leaning into Steve’s shoulder nose first. He can’t help smelling Steve. He likes how Steve smells, clean and fresh with a citrusy cologne, totally unlike all the homeless guys in the park, unlike…Jeff who always smelled like sex and sweat and musk.

Without thinking, Christian lifts his face a little and bites Steve lightly through Steve’s shirt. He wants to make it up to Steve for embarrassing himself, wants to feel Steve’s attention again, wants Steve to want him. “Hey,” Steve says, shrugging Christian off his shoulder a little. But he relaxes again when Christian rests his cheek against the shoulder and lays the hand not smushed between Steve and the couch on Steve’s chest.

Steve tenses when that hand starts petting at his chest and belly. Still he’s not terribly worried until Christian curls into him more and the hand slips lower.

Blushing, Steve grabs Christian’s wrist and pulls it back up against his chest as Christian makes a guttural sound of defiance at being denied. It is definitely time to go.

He holds Christian even tighter against him as Steve tries to leverage the two of them up to standing. Jensen is about to get up to help him when he finally manages it, Christian hanging on him like a limpet. Jensen just nods in understanding when Steve says that they’re gonna head home, but Steve can see that Jared saw what Christian had been doing by the look in his eyes.

The look is somewhere between pitying and embarrassed, and even though Steve knows that Jared doesn’t intend to be mean in any way, boy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, maybe Steve understands Christian’s reactions a little more. Because Jared lets everything show on his face and Steve kinda hates the idea that people look at Christian like that. Christian doesn’t mean to be rude or oversexed or anything, and it’s just not fair.

“Hey, Christian,” Jason says loudly, interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “Dude, glad you came and had a good time,” Jason says with his own little drunken laugh.

Christian stops their movement, turning away from Steve for a minute and giving Jason a wave and a big little boy smile, “Jay! Thanks, man”. It’s kinda worth the mess of the whole night for Steve. Jason is kinda the best.

Christian mostly falls against him as Steve turns them to maneuver them out of the room, but then Christian is trying to push off of Steve again. “Wait, I have to…pee.” Christian giggles a little at his own words.

That figures, Steve thinks as he changes direction to the bathroom. After a second’s thought, Steve walks Christian into the room and shuts the door behind the both of them. He really doesn’t trust Christian not to get into trouble when he’s alone at this point. More disturbing is how unconcerned Christian is with his presence in the bathroom. Yeah, Steve knows that they’ve seen each other’s dicks at this point, but peeing is way different than having sex.

Christian chuckles a little to himself as he unzips. Finally Steve is going to give them what they both want and he wonders if it’ll be here in the bathroom or back at Steve’s house. He’s surprised when Steve turns away when he takes out his dick though. Jeff used to sometimes follow him into the bathroom sometimes, to grope him a little. Christian thinks Jeff liked the in public aspect of it, liked how nervous it had made Christian at first.

Shrugging it off, Christian washes his hands but doesn’t bother to dry them simply grips onto Steve’s shirt, pulling Steve to him and stumbling a little. Steve wraps his arms around Christian again to steady him and Christian likes that but he knows what Steve wants so he drops a hand down to Steve’s crotch again.

“Whoa,” Steve says. “Let’s get out of here, ok. Let’s go home.”

Christian doesn’t bother reminding Steve that he doesn’t have a home. He simply leans against Steve and lets the other teen lead him out, waving as the girls say goodbye.

Steve opens the passenger car door and deposits Christian inside, but Christian manages to buckle the seatbelt himself. On the ride, Christian hums along happily with the radio, “Renegade” by Styx. Steve actually finds himself smiling at how happy Christian seems now. If he can just put Christian to bed, maybe this night won’t have caused too much damage.

When they get in the house though, Steve shushes Christian’s enthusiasm so they won’t wake Steve’s parents, who’re apparently asleep as usual. They’ve always trusted Steve to ask for help if he needs it, and evidently they still do with the addition of Christian to the equation. Steve pulls them quickly into Christian’s bedroom and sits Christian on the bed before going to the dressers and pulling out a pair of sweats and tshirt. He knows better than to help Christian get undressed so he simply puts the clothes on the bed and then says, “K, Christian, get undressed and put these on so you can go to sleep. Believe me, sleeping in jeans is no fun.”

Steve blushes then in embarrassment. Of course, Christian would know what it feels like to sleep in jeans. He lived in the park for God’s sake, it’s not like he had matching pajamas while out there.

But still Christian obliges him, yanks off his t-shirt and then stands to drop his pants. Steve starts to turn then, to go get a glass of water, except Christian drops his borrowed boxers with the jeans and then steps out of the pooled clothes and towards Steve. Christian’s lost the smile, ducking his face a little and looking up at Steve through long lashes, but this time Steve can see insecurity in that gaze.

At this point, Steve knows what Christian is doing, knows that he can’t give in no matter how hot Christian is naked and wanting him. But for a moment, it just seems so cruel to deny Christian anything, comfort and affection. Unfortunately Steve hesitates long enough that Christian drops to his knees and has his hands on Steve’s zipper.

“No, Christian,” Steve says dropping to his own knees. He feels lower than dirt as he watches Christian’s face crumple at the repeated rejection. Steve reaches for Christian but with an agonized, incoherent sound, Christian is crawling naked away from him. It would be funny except how it so isn’t.

Steve finds himself crawling after him, scrabbling at Christian’s naked back until he can get his arms around Christian’s waist and pull the other teen into him and practically onto his lap. He can see now that Christian isn’t crying, but his expression is wretched and inconsolable. And he’s still beautiful to Steve.

Christian pushes halfheartedly against Steve’s chest to get away even when all he wants is to collapse against Steve, just let Steve do whatever he wants. He doesn’t understand!

“C’mon, baby, you just need some sleep, ok?” Steve tries and then finally yanks hard enough that Christian falls against his chest again. “Christian, don’t. Let’s just get you dressed and into bed.”

Christian makes that sound again like Steve is ripping out his heart, and all Steve can do is hold Christian tighter because he doesn’t know how to make this better. He remembers now exactly why he didn’t want Christian to drink. Alcohol can make a person giggle, but it also can make a person scream, cry, and make out with random people.

Giving up on trying to pull away, Christian lets Steve stand them up and obediently puts on the clothes. He’s so disgusting Steve can’t stand the sight of him. It’s obvious Steve is finally seeing him now. He’s not beautiful as so many men have told him, he’s disgusting and worthless. Why would Steve want him, when Steve could have anyone, could have Misha? Even the promise of an easy fuck isn’t swaying Steve now.

Christian shakes off the hand that tries to help him under the covers, simply curls up on his side on the far edge of the bed and tugs the covers over him.

“I’m gonna get you some water, ok?” Steve says quietly.

“Whatever,” is the gruff miserable response. “Just get out if you don’t want to touch me.”

“Christian, that’s not…” Steve trails off because he doesn’t know if confessing his attraction and constant desire to strip Christian is going to help things. He hesitates because he just feels like if he leaves the room now that Christian will never forgive him.  
Not knowing what else to do, Steve sits down on the bed and places a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “That’s not it. I want to be around you all the time,” he says. But Christian only curls farther away from Steve.

Sighing, Steve lays down on the bed, close behind Christian but not close enough that their bodies are touching. And he keeps the one hand thrown over Christian’s shoulder. Steve decides that Christian needs the company more than he needs a glass of water. It’s funny though, that he just said how uncomfortable it was to sleep in jeans and now he’s apparently going to be doing it. But he obviously can’t undress in Christian’s room.

Fuck. Christian goes to sleep easily enough after all that alcohol, leaving Steve lying on top of the covers fully dressed, sober, and awake. He debates going into his own room. He has no idea what he’s doing. Staying in the room with Christian is almost too intimate, more than friendly, and Christian doesn’t seem to trust him.

On the other hand, how upset will Christian be if Steve sneaks out in the middle of the night? He already thinks Steve doesn’t want to be near him just because Steve isn’t having sex with him. A fact that hurts to think about too much. What the fuck happened to Christian?

He just wants to prove that he cares for Christian, prove that Christian can count on him, can trust him. Figuring there’s really no other choice, Steve carefully kicks off his shoes and at least takes off his jewelry before climbing under the covers. And he still keeps a little distance between them so as not to frighten Christian or give him the wrong impression.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It’s a restless night for Steve. His jeans are leaving a permanent impression on his legs, and he’s so worried about getting too close to Christian. Christian gets up a couple times to go to the bathroom and each time Christian slips back into the bed without acknowledging Steve at all.

But when sunlight is coming in through the windows and the clock is saying that it’s past eleven, Christian is more awake than asleep. And he knows he can’t pretend to sleep forever. For one thing, he feels like crap and as appealing as lying in bed all day is, he knows he’ll feel better if he gets up and eats something.

Besides it’s obvious Steve isn’t going away, which is really bothering him. Steve doesn’t want to have sex with him anymore, but Steve is still here in his bed, resting one hand on him again after either one of them moves. So what does Steve want in return? Is it Steve just wanting to take care of his charity case? But why bother sleeping in Christian’s bed if Steve doesn’t want sex? If he’s a charity case wouldn’t giving him food, clothes, and shelter be enough?

The confusion is really not helping Christian’s headache. Slowly he rolls over to see that Steve is awake as well.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, before giving Christian’s shoulder a little rub. “How’re you feelin’?”

Christian just makes a face in answer and Steve huffs a soft laugh. “I figured. Need anything? Water or ibuprofen or something?”

“Yeah,” Christian answers in a voice like gravel.

“Ok,” Steve says but he hesitates with his hand still on Christian’s shoulder. “Did you want to talk about last night then? I mean you drank a lot after what Chad said, and you didn’t try to defend yourself either…”

Christian sits up abruptly to escape this stupid conversation, only to be left holding his head and groaning at the movement.

Sighing, Steve sits up himself and deliberately lays a hand on Christian’s back, rubbing soothingly for a moment. “Ok, let me go get you some water.”

Bracing himself, Steve heads out, knowing that this is not going to look good to his parents. In fact, they’re sitting at the kitchen table like they’re waiting for him.

They don’t have time to even open their mouths before Steve is speaking, “I’m still dressed, alright? I didn’t touch him last night. We went to the party, and we weren’t even going to drink. Christian totally refused when he was first asked. But then Misha got there and Chad was a total douche!” Steve barely pauses to take a breath before starting again.

“Everything just kinda got out of hand. Christian drank a lot while I was telling off Chad…So I stayed in Christian’s room last night. I was dressed and he was in sweats and we barely touched, but I just felt like if I left him alone then he would never trust me. He was just convinced that I didn’t want to be near him or something,” Steve finishes softly.

Steve’s Dad’s face still shows confusion and anxiety, but his mom just looks resigned which frankly worries Steve more.

“Steve, honey, I’m getting very worried that maybe we’re not doing what’s best for Christian. I really think that he needs help from people who know what he’s going through…” his mom finally says.

Gripping the back of one of the dining table chairs, Steve has to admit at least to himself, that she may be right. He just feels so lost most of the time and he’s so afraid of making things worse. “But we can’t just abandon him, then we’ll be more people who prove that he can’t trust people.”

“Honey, it’s too late to think about abandoning him,” Steve’s mom says with a small indulgent smile. “We just need to get him some help.”

Steve’s smile is grateful once again that he has such great parents. “Thanks. But…how? Who’re we gonna get?”

That’s when she sighs and looks away for a minute. “I don’t know. But we’ll have to come up with something.”

Steve nods and then heads to the cabinets to get a glass of water. “He has a headache,” Steve explains as he gets out some medicine. His parents barely seem to hear, talking quietly together as soon as Steve is out of earshot.

Christian is lying down again as Steve re-enters the bedroom. He only sits up with Steve stands beside the bed and says, “Here,” giving him the glass and pills before Steve sits on the bed with him. Draining the glass, he sets it on the nightstand, but he doesn’t look at Steve’s face. He feels so incredibly stupid and has no idea what to do or say.

Unfortunately Steve doesn’t know what to say either. Eventually he goes with the mundane. “Do you feel like eating something?”

Glancing up at Steve’s face, Christian shrugs. He hates to ask for food even now, but that’s not why he hesitates. “Is your Dad here?” He’s going for casual but he knows that Steve isn’t that stupid.

Steve wants to sigh. He wants to scream. In the end, though, he settles on simple and direct. “Yeah, they’re at the table. Mom’s probably making us all lunch.”

Christian nods, trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal. “I don’t think I’m all that hungry. Maybe I’ll just stay in here.” The last sentence comes off as more of a question than he really meant it to.

Steve does sigh then. “Wouldn’t you feel better if you ate a little something? Just come out and try…”

“Dude, I don’t want to. I’m fine in here, I don’t need you…hovering and shit.”

Steve can tell that Christian is digging in his heels and doesn’t really want Christian to work himself into a snit. Then he realizes that Christian is mostly complaining about leaving the room, not about eating something.

“We could get out of here, out of the house I mean. I know this little diner you’d love, small and friendly. You can order dry toast,” Steve says with a small teasing smile, “and maybe we’ll go over to Jason’s and play the guitar in his basement or something.”

Steve shrugs, but he can’t help waiting on Christian’s answer with baited breath. Now that he’s said it, he really likes his suggestion and hopes that Christian does too. He hopes that he’s doing something right for a change.

Christian still hates the idea of Steve taking him out and paying for him, but he certainly doesn’t want to stay here, not when Steve’s Dad is waiting out there, not after last night. And he kinda likes the idea of just hanging out with Steve for a little bit, in this diner and whatever else.

“Yeah?” he asks questioningly. “That’d be cool, I guess.”

Steve smiles and can’t help but to reach out a hand to gently grasp Christian’s forearm. “You wanna take a shower? Or do you need some more water first?”

Christian looks back down toward the bedding and blushes a little at Steve’s concern, particularly after his tantrum last night. He never behaved like that around Jeff. Course he’d never been drunk off his ass around Jeff.

“Naw, I’m fine, man,” Christian says sheepishly.

“You sure?” Steve just can’t help asking. But it only takes the beginning of a snarl on Christian’s lips to get him to relent. “Ok, ok, great. Well, I’m just gonna go take a shower too and then I’ll come get you to go.”

It takes them longer than average to get ready. It’s understandable that Christian would take a while with his hangover, but Steve needs a minute to himself in the shower too. He doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he should be doing. Last night was a disaster of epic proportions and all Steve had wanted to do was show Christian a good time, with friends.

What if Christian should be somewhere else? The way Christian acted last night, how he seemed so broken, Steve doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to begin fixing it. Maybe love really doesn’t conquer all. But through all of it, Steve still wants Christian. He liked the way Christian sat close to him last night, before the drinking. He can’t stop the way he looks every time Christian strips down awkwardly in front of him, even knowing what he knows now.

Steve can’t help reaching for his own dick, as memories of touching Christian’s bare skin last night meld into memories of the night they did have sex, the night that Steve thought Christian really wanted him. But after Steve comes, he has to bite his lip at the few tears that escape. Why does this have to hurt so much?  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It’s past noon by the time, Steve’s dressed. He tells his parents the plan and goes to collect Christian from his room. They don’t really speak, but Christian stays close to him and Steve can’t help running a hand down Christian’s tshirt clad back, wishing he could say by touch what he can’t find the words for.

The diner is downtown, near the park actually and Steve has to wonder at the irony that so much of his life was going on so close to Christian for the past two years, all the times before when he had been to that park before he noticed Christian, all the times he and Jensen had met in this diner. All that time Christian had been in pain, had been hungry and dirty and frightened. And what about all the others? All the other homeless people living in the park that probably have stories just as heart-wrenching as Christian, as Mary and her kids.

He has to reach out and touch Christian again, rest his hand briefly against the dip of Christian’s lower back as they make their way inside after parking the car. Steve manages a smile for the waitress who seats them, both of them sliding into opposite sides of the booth. Christian rests his left arm on the window sill as she leaves to get them coffee.

It’s already one o’clock, definitely more lunchtime than breakfast Steve realizes as he looks down at the menu, sunlight glinting off the plastic obscuring the words.

“So Jay’s pretty cool,” Christian ventures into the silence. He doesn’t really know why he feels the need to try, to try and bridge the silence, but…Steve seems upset, for maybe the first time that Christian has known Steve the other teen seems unsure and unhappy. And even though it doesn’t seem to be that Steve is unhappy with him, Christian does want to help. After all Steve’s helping him right now, with the clothes and the food and the roof over his head.

“Jason?” Steve questions, smiling as he realizes Christian keeps slipping into the nickname. “Yeah, he’s the best. Those parties are kinda the only perk from his parents getting divorced.”

“He took it badly?” Christian ventures, connecting somewhat to Jay’s story.

“Yeah, they fought in court over him, yet somehow it still made Jason feel…forgotten, I guess. And then his mom moved away. But his Dad’s great. Well, his Dad’s busy a lot, but he tries and Jason knows that. They went to therapy for a while,” Steve mentions, watching Christian’s face. He knows Christian’s empathizing with the loss of a parent from the dark pain in blue eyes.

He just wishes that he knew the whole story, maybe then he’d know what to do... “Christian,” Steve starts.

“You boys ready to order?” the waitress interrupts.

Steve watches as Christian please and thank you’s the woman, the moment that he could have asked about Christian’s past totally lost.

“But you should hear Jason play the guitar,” Steve continues after the waitress leaves. “He plays electric…”

Their food comes out quickly. Steve tells Christian all about some of their previous parties, the time when Jason accidentally invited a girl to the party and then broke up with her before Friday and she came to the party to win him back only Jason already had another girlfriend there, the time they convinced Mike to streak around Jason’s house but Mike tripped, face-planting in the wet grass and Jason’s dog came over and licked Mike’s ass, the time Steve brought pot over to share and then laid on the coffee-table moving his arms and legs like he was a turtle stuck on his back.

And it feels normal again, Christian laughing loud enough that people stare at them and eating his food. But Steve knows it’s not normal. He knows that whatever happened to Christian, he needs more than just Steve trying to make him feel normal like that’s gonna cure it all, like ignoring it is the answer. Christian deserves a real shot. Steve just doesn’t know how to give it to him.  
They’re still laughing as they leave the diner and Steve accidentally walks into someone.

“Oops, sorry,” he tells the guy, turning. But the smile dies on Steve’s face when he hears Christian gasp.

“David?” Christian asks, the name sticking in his throat because it can’t be real. David can’t really be here.

David looks just as surprised to see Christian, but he stumbles out some words, “Chris, thank God. I’ve been looking…”

No, no, no, no, no, Christian thinks desperately. His feet are taking off, running away before he even consciously decides to leave.

Steve’s first instinct is to run after Christian, but instead, he plants his feet and bodily prevents this guy from running after Christian. Whoever this guy is, Christian doesn’t want to see him and Steve isn’t going to lead the guy straight to Christian.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” the guy snaps, taking a step back from Steve. The guy is taller than either Christian or Steve, built a shit ton larger than them too, but Steve will be damned if he’ll get past.

“What’s your problem?” Steve retorts, breathing heavily.

The guy holds up the papers he’d been clutching in his hands so Steve can see Christian’s picture on it, a much younger picture. It’s a plea for information on Christian.

“He doesn’t want to be found,” Steve says.

“Well, his mom wants to know he’s alright,” the guy says, taking a menacing step forward.

Steve moves to block but his breath has caught in his own chest. Christian’s mother? Looking for him? “Is she here?”

“No,” the guy warily replies.

“But she…” Steve has to stop and swallow before finding his voice. “She wants to see him, she…still cares about him?”

The guy kinda deflates at the pitiful sound of Steve’s questions. “Yeah, she does. She wants to know why he ran away.”

“She doesn’t know?” Steve asks sharply.

“No, she doesn’t,” the guy says easily, but Steve notices an odd emphasis on the word she, like this guy might know what she doesn’t.

“But you know,” Steve accuses.

“I might,” the guy hedges. “Look, I’m not gonna force him to go back, ok? But I am going to talk to him.” The guy takes a step forward again like this time he is determined to get past Steve.

Steve’s mind is whirling, but he can’t just turn the guy away, not if he knows Christian’s mother. “Ok,” he decides.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian runs into the park first, heading straight for his old hiding place, his stuff still wedged in that broken tree. But as he collapses there, panting and kneeling on the dirt, he still doesn’t feel safe. Why is David here?

It’s LA. David could be here for any number of reasons, none of them having to do with him. David must have graduated from high school by now, maybe he came for college? Maybe David is trying to break into Hollywood?

But as Christian sits there, those thoughts don’t give him any comfort. No matter what David came here for, there’s no way he won’t tell Christian’s momma that he’s here. She’ll come or she’ll tip off the cops here in LA. Steve and his parents will kick him out, they’re not going to outright shelter him from his own mother.

What will his momma think when David tells her? What will she think to know that he was at a diner with another boy, clean and fed? Is that better or worse than if David had seen him on the streets, homeless? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’d be better if he were just dead. If there was only his body left to find and then his momma could bury him, along with all their questions and all his answers. He suddenly finds himself wishing that Mary’s husband would find him, that that bastard were still looking. That would solve his problem and then the bastard would go away for murder too.

But the longer he sits, the more he knows that he’s got as much possibility of being picked up by the cops here as being killed by Mary’s husband. He can’t sit here and wait, he can’t stand to think any more about David and his momma and, oh God, what if David tells Jeff? What if Jeff comes?

Christian is off again, racing back into the city just trying to silence his own thoughts.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Steve races over to his car once he makes the decision, the guy’s long legs letting him easily keep pace. Unfortunately despite Steve’s pleading with the universe, Christian did not in fact run to the car to wait for Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve says, thinking over their options quickly. “He probably went to the park, we should check there.”

The guy just nods, but before Steve can head off again, there’s a big hand on Steve’s arm. “Hey, who’re you…?”

“Look, we can tell each other everything we know later, but right now we need to find Christian before anyone else does. Name’s Steve.”

The guy nods, removing his hand. “David,” he says.

Oh yeah, Steve thinks as he starts to cross the street toward the park. That’s the name Christian said right before he freaked the fuck out and ran off.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian doesn’t head in any particularly direction. He simply moves through the familiar corridors of the alleyways of LA, looking for what he has no idea.

He almost stops when several guys look at him with that look, but it doesn’t seem like sex will be enough. He wants to forget, he wants to disappear. Maybe he is looking for death.

Eventually he does stop, when a taller man grabs his arm as Christian is going past. “Let go,” Christian snarls.

The guy is much bigger and he simply shakes Christian like a rag doll. “No, I don’t think you want me to. You’re looking for something.”

“And you think you’ve got it?” Christian sneers. “I’ve fucked hundreds of guys just like you.”

“I bet you have, pretty little thing,” the guys purrs, pulling Christian closer until Christian is forced to turn his face away. “But I’ve seen hundreds of little boys with that same look in their eye.”

The man’s other hand lifts up to Christian’s face. Instinctively, Christian tries to get away, but as he’s pulled back in, he looks down into the man’s open palm. It’s heroin.

“I don’t…” Christian starts to say but he swallows the rest of the words. The guy’s laughing at him.

“You didn’t, but now…now you’ve got that look in your eye,” the guy says.

“I don’t have any money,” Christian whispers, unable to believe what he’s doing. But why not? He can’t go back, and he obviously can’t stay here. There’s nowhere left to run to.

“That’s ok, slut. I’m sure you’ve got something else I want.” Christian allows the man to throw him limply against the dirty wall of the abandoned building the man had been sitting against a moment before. It’s only now he sees the other men and women around, walking in and out of the building, sitting against the outside, some stoned, some not.

He’s still staring when the man pushes at him again. “Sit down.” Mutely obeying, Christian’s wide eyes watch as the guy takes a rubber band from one of his friends. The guy isn’t even talking to him anymore, simply grabs his arm and ties the rubber above his elbow.

Christian’s eyes are then drawn to a needle as someone passes it to the guy. It looks dirty, but Christian knows enough that saying no wouldn’t mean anything now. He’s not going anywhere.

He’s stiff with fear, his heart pounding, his anxiety causing the needle to hurt when it goes in, burning. Christian moves his feet restlessly, accidentally kicking another guy sitting nearby, but no one notices.

In a second, neither does Christian. It’s like a tide creeping up behind him, he feels the pull but it’s not til it crashes over him that he realizes what he was feeling. It’s the drug. He doesn’t even notice until he’s gone completely limp, lying against the wall like a broken toy.

Letting out a sigh, Christian feels like the nothingness is stuffing itself down his throat, right into the heart of him until he doesn’t care about anything. The syringe suddenly seems like a joke as it lies there next to him, because it can’t hurt him, nothing can.

He doesn’t even care when his body is dragged away from the wall and he’s turned over. It seems like the man’s arm moves too quickly, like ninja fast and then Christian is on his front, his head turned toward the building’s door, watching people who alternately seem to be moving too slow and too fast. His jeans are being pulled down, Christian knows it, but can’t feel it. He’s bathed in warmth.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They’ve searched the park, at least the areas where Steve has seen Christian and other homeless people. It’s possible that Christian is there and they just keep missing him, but eventually he and David agree to move on.

It’s been hours. Steve had to call Jason in a panic, begging his friend to cover his shift at the record store. He can’t call his mom, not when she already thinks they can’t handle Christian. This mess’ll just prove her right, she might even force Christian to go back to Oklahoma. Steve doesn’t want to do that to Christian, not when he basically promised he wouldn’t.

He and David have moved on into the rundown section of the city opposite the park, taking the flashlight out of Steve’s car and peering down each alleyway.

This is impossible, Steve thinks. They will never find him back here. He can see that David is starting to lose hope too, but the guy doesn’t say anything. Probably because David can see how Steve himself getting more and more frantic, venturing farther and farther into places they shouldn’t be after the sun sets.

Feeling sick in the pit of his stomach with anxiety, Steve flicks his flashlight to the right, seeing something red tucked against the grey wall of a building in that direction. Christian was wearing a red shirt this morning!

Within a few steps, Steve can see it is a person lying against the side of a building, and he can see that the person’s not lying still, faint movements that might be shivers. Steve’s steps stutter before he drops to his knees. It’s Christian, Steve doesn’t even need to see his face.

But he does need to see. Slowly, Steve grabs an arm that jumps spastically when he touches it. He pulls Christian over, and immediately Steve can smell vomit, he sees it on Christian’s red shirt.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes, now aware of David kneeling behind him. David’s hands join Steve’s own on Christian’s torso, turning the slight teen completely over.

They both gasp. Christian’s face…he’s looks like a vampire out of an old movie, skin ghastly pale, features drawn up in a grimace, unseeing pale blue eyes. Slowly, Christian’s eyes focus on their faces, as Steve is still pulling at Christian’s dead weight, pulling the other teen into his lap, trying to support the limp neck, whispering, “Christian…?”

“Steve.” It’s David’s voice, drawing his attention to where David’s fingers grip Christian’s right arm, blood drying in the crook of the elbow. “Steve, he’s…”

“Steve?” Christian’s voice is a soft croak but Steve focuses on it immediately. Christian’s not exactly shivering, he’s jerking kind of, or maybe he is shivering violently. There are so many things to take in, the blood, the little vomit on Christian’s red shirt, Christian’s jeans unzipped, Christian’s eyes so blue in the beam of light, almost no pupil at all. Christian sounds like he’s half asleep but fighting against it like a little kid.

“Steve,” Christian’s more desperate now. “I didn’t…” Christian tries, shaking apart in Steve’s arms, breathing softly like someone is sitting on his chest.

“Christian,” Steve pleads, not knowing what he can hope for in this situation. “What did you do?”

Blue eyes overflow with tears, trickling down the sides of Christian’s face into his sweaty hair. “I don’t want to die,” Christian whispers, sounding like he’s halfway there.

Steve pulls Christian up more, halfway to sitting and he pulls Christian into a hug. “No, baby, no. You’re not gonna die.”

Steve has forgotten about David until David is pulling on Christian. “Steve, we have to go. I pulled the car up, we’ve got to carry him back to the street.”

It feels like reality catches up to Steve in a rush as he and David carry Christian bridal style to the car, their legs getting in the other person’s way. An awful sense of déjà vu comes over him as he climbs first in the back of the car, pulling Christian in after him, Christian limp but jerking like a fish caught on a line. Steve pulls Christian back against his chest, cradling the other teen as much as he can as he reaches for his cell phone.

“Mom,” Steve says his voice shaky. He leans his cheek against the top of Christian’s head. He would bet anything that Christian wants his own mom right now too, wants someone to take care of him for once, someone he’d believe to tell him everything will be ok.

“Yeah, what do you need?” his mom says easily. She probably thinks he’s calling from the record store.

“Mom, I need your help again. Christian…we’re taking him to the hospital,” Steve says shakily.

She’s silent for a minute and Steve knows that she must have a million and one questions about what he just said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian clings to Steve as the doctors take him away, his blue eyes still looking unearthly with their tiny pupils but pleading with Steve all the while.

There are questions from every angle it seems, what’s his name and is he allergic to any medications. He’s barely figured out how to work his voice box again, lets David tell the hospital staff that they think it’s an overdose. They’re still pressing them for answers when Steve’s mom is there beside him.

But he hears it clearly when she says, “He’s a runaway.”

He wants to be angry, angry that she betrayed Christian, angry that Christian put him in this position, but he’s not. But he’s too scared. Christian was scared, he was desperate and out of control and that scares Steve more than even Mary’s unconsciousness did.

He can’t be angry because he feels like he’s the one who failed Christian. He can’t blame Christian for being fucked up enough to do this, but he can blame himself that he couldn’t find a way to help. Christian was doing perfectly fine before he met Steve, before Steve tried to fix everything and just made everything worse.

His mom’s hand rubs across his shoulders, squeezing his neck for a moment. They all know that Child Protective Services will be called now. Whatever it is that Christian has been trying to hide is about to come out.

Steve just wants to know that Christian will be alright. People survive overdoses all the time, right? As long as someone gets help? But no one is going to tell them anything, he knows. They can’t get any news on Christian’s condition unless Christian is conscious enough to agree. And even then, CPS might not let the hospital tell them.

There’s nothing to do but wait so Steve lets his mom push him away from the desk, David following behind them over to the waiting room chairs. He can only hope Christian won’t hate him for this, for telling on him. Surely, Christian will see that Steve couldn’t keep it from the hospital staff? Even if Steve did screw everything up, he has to see Christian. He can’t just walk away, not even now, not ever.

They sit, but none of them know what to say it seems. David is sitting on Steve’s other side and Steve knows that his mom has got to be wondering who the guy is, and there are plenty of things that Steve himself wants David to explain, but for Steve, his only thought right now is that Christian will be ok. He told Christian that he wasn’t going to die and Steve can’t be wrong. He can’t be wrong.

It could be minutes or hours later that a woman comes to stand in front of them.

“Did you bring in a teenage boy with an overdose?” the woman asks, drawing their attention. She’s dressed in business casual amidst all the multi-colored scrubs, a name badge around her neck.

“Yes,” Steve croaks out. “Christian…”

“Kane,” David supplies. It angers Steve suddenly, that David knows so much more about Christian than Steve does, that David knows Christian’s last name. It seems amazing that Steve didn’t even know that about Christian.

“Is he going to be ok? Is he…?” Steve continues desperately.

“They’re working on him now,” the woman obfuscates, firm but sympathetic. “Are you friends of his?”

Dumbly, Steve just nods, deflated since she won’t tell him what’s going on with Christian.

“I’m with Child Protective Services,” she explains professionally, flashing an ID. “We need to gather some information on him to contact his parent or legal guardian.”

Steve simply listens as David gives her the address and phone number of Christian’s mother. It just makes Steve feel so insignificant. What if Christian does think Steve is just another guy who fucked him? What if Christian just didn’t trust him with any other information?

“Did you see what happened to Christian tonight?” the woman continues.

“No,” David continues speaking for them with a look towards Steve. “We found him…afterwards.”

“Do you have any idea whom he might have been with, whom he normally buys drugs from?” she asks.

“No,” Steve speaks up. “He doesn’t do drugs. I don’t…he might’ve just met them tonight.”

“And what is your relationship to Christian?” she asks.

Steve looks to David and then to his mother for an instant, before his mom speaks. “We’re friends of his. He has stayed in our home for about the last week.”

“Did you encourage him to contact his parent or guardian or a shelter?”

“No,” Steve’s mom starts but Steve interrupts.

“Christian has been homeless for two years. We just wanted him to be off the street.”

The woman nods and smiles tightly, thanks them for their information, but Steve can’t tell what the woman’s judgment on them might be. “A nurse will need to be present for any visitors Christian chooses to see,” she says before walking away.

Steve thinks that the woman meant the words as a kindness, letting them know that CPS won’t be keeping them away from Christian. It doesn’t make Steve feel any better though. It means that Christian could very well refuse to see them and they could simply sit out here all night. Course it does seem to be a back-handed way to say that Christian will be alive later to make decisions about visitors.

“Steve,” his mom says, getting his attention. “Can you explain what’s been going on?”

“We just…we went to that diner downtown just like I said, and we met David outside,” Steve says, glaring at David despite himself.

“I’m David, ma’am,” the other teen speaks up, apparently taking the cue that he should tell his own story. “I know Chris from Oklahoma.”

“You were a friend of his?” Steve’s mom asks.

“Yes, ma’am. He and I were on the wrestling team starting in middle school,” David answers politely. “I came to LA to find him.”

“After two years?” Steve asks.

“The first chance I could get,” David explains. “I didn’t forget him and neither did his mom. I didn’t tell her I was coming to look for him just because I didn’t want to get her hopes up.”

“Why come here?” Steve asks harshly.

David’s lips twitch into a small, intimate smile that makes Steve want to hit him. “He always wanted to be an actor.”

“But why did he run away?” Steve practically accuses David.

“I only said I might know why,” David defends. “He ran away after our freshman year, after beating up another kid.”

“You’re saying that he left because of a fight?!” Steve exclaims.

“No,” David says in a harsh whisper at the same time that his mom lays a hand on his arm in rebuke. “I’m just telling you what I know. The last time anyone in Norman saw him, Chris went to the university and beat up a guy who used to be a wrestler at our school, Michael. Then he just left.”

“But why…?” Steve starts.

David talks over his question. “Christian wouldn’t have just left like that. He loved his family. And Chris hadn’t really spoken to Michael since Michael went to college. Something must have happened and I know that Chris was with Coach Morgan that day.”

“The wrestling coach? What are you saying?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know,” David says exasperated. “Chris was…withdrawn after his Dad’s death, and Coach Morgan took him under his wing. Chris wouldn’t have been able to do wrestling without the Coach’s help, and they were really close. Maybe weirdly close. And Michael was Coach Morgan’s protégé just before Chris.”

“You just had a feeling? You don’t know anything about what was going on,” Steve is accusing now.

“I was his friend,” David defends, getting angry himself. “Enough of a friend to chase him here. It’s not like he told you what was going on.”

“Boys,” Steve’s mom stops them both in their tracks. “So what else happened tonight?” Steve’s mom tries to get them back on track.

“Christian freaked out when he saw David,” Steve starts but he’s not so self-involved that he doesn’t notice how David’s face falls at his words. “He’s really afraid of having to go back to Oklahoma,” Steve explains apologetically.

“So Christian ran off,” Steve continues. “We looked everywhere and finally found him overdosed on the street.”

The conversation peters off into silence at those words. Steve imagines that they’re all thinking about why did Christian run away. Christian did mention Coach Morgan, but he didn’t say anything particularly about him, just talked about his love of wrestling. But if Christian was abused as Steve had thought, then this Coach Morgan has jumped to the top of the suspect list.

But soon enough, Steve stops wondering what happened and why. His thoughts go back to worrying that Christian will be ok, and worrying that Christian won’t want to see him again.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christian is shuddering still from the drugs, half-sitting up in his hospital bed. Apparently he’s “very lucky” that his friends found him in time and should “learn a valuable lesson” from this experience. Drugs are not the answer apparently.

The doctors also asked him questions about who gave him the drugs, and if he remembers having sex. The question makes Christian blush and look away in embarrassment as he realizes that his asshole feels not used but numb from their ministrations. They’re acting like they think it was rape or something, but no, he’s just a whore and now a junkie. No wonder they’re all looking at him like a piece of trash picked up off the streets.

It’s another reason for CPS to come visit him. He refused to answer any questions about where he’s from, but he doubts it’ll take them long to find out who he is, his momma is certain to have filed a missing persons.

What he does know is that Steve is apparently waiting to see him, and Steve’s mom and David. Even after what Christian did, how stupid he was, Steve is still here. And Christian feels more than a little indebted.

And what Christian doesn’t want to think about is the fact that he’s scared. He didn’t…he didn’t mean to take it that far. Things just got out of control, again, and he thought that he was going to die. He would have died except for Steve, and now he’s sitting in hospital room with a needle in his arm. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Christian’s thoughts are interrupted as a young nurse ushers Steve in through the door, his eyes wide and face pale. Christian feels incredibly stupid just sitting there and he looks down at his blanket as Steve approaches.

Steve feels a sense of relief so great it feels like falling off a building as he walks over to Christian on legs that feel like jello. His first reaction is to grab Christian’s hand, lying on top of the white blanket and squeezing it. Thank God Christian’s ok, though Steve can feel that Christian is still shuddering lightly.

Christian’s eyes focus on Steve’s hand gripping his tightly instead of on Steve’s face. The touch, Steve’s presence makes him feel better, less like he’s being crushed by an impossible weight, despite his continuing guilt and shame. He’s surprised when Steve’s mom speaks.

“Did they say how long you would be here, honey?” Steve’s mom asks.

“24 hours they said, ma’am. Maybe. If things go ok, that is. I think this is just fluid and antibiotics or something,” Chris gestures to the IV bag with the hand that’s attached to Steve’s and blushes. He’s babbling like a moron. He is a moron. And he doesn’t know how to say sorry or thank you.

“Can I stay with you?” Steve asks softly. As much as he wants the answer to be yes, he doesn’t want to pressure Christian.

“Yeah,” Christian answers just as softly, squeezing Steve’s hands in an attempt to give Steve something after all Steve has done.

It takes David speaking for Christian to realize the other teen’s there too. “Hey Chris,” David says.

Steve winces along with Christian at the nickname. He doesn’t know the story, but he knows that it’s painful. David may have been Christian’s friend once but Christian was hiding secrets from David too.

“I missed you, sparky,” David says with a sheepish smile.

Christian bites his lip at the words, completely at a loss how to respond. He missed David, when he was alone in the park before Steve, he missed having someone to talk to, to throw a ball with, to laugh with. But David being here means CPS is going to call his mom, tell her about how he was found, what he was doing.

“Hey,” Steve says, seeing the stress written all over Christian, the fear of what he’s been running from. He just wants to keep Christian’s mind off of what they know is coming. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re not going to be alone.”

Christian nods, but his eyes are starting to close again, his hand releasing its grip on Steve’s, exhausted from his emotions and from the drugs still in his system. Steve gives his hand one last squeeze before the nurse asks them to leave.

“Steve,” his mom beckons. Regretfully, Steve moves away towards the door with David, bracing himself for an argument. “He should be out for the night, I…”

“I’m staying,” Steve interrupts obstinately. “I don’t care if I can’t be in the room with him. I’ll stay in the waiting room.”

Giving him an annoyed and disapproving look, Steve’s mom continues, “Yes, you can stay and I’ll be back in the morning with a toothbrush and a change of clothes for you and Christian. Steve, just because CPS is going to help Christian doesn’t mean that we can’t continue to see and help him.”

Guiltily, Steve nods in agreement, ashamed for having jumped on his mother after how wonderful she’s been about this whole thing. It takes a moment for the relief to set in. No matter what mistakes he’s made so far, Steve is going to be with Christian through this, and her supporting him in that is worth more than he can say.

“David, can I drop you somewhere?” she asks then.

With his own guilty face, David nods and steps out into the hall with a last look at Christian in the hospital bed. Steve can’t help feeling sorry for the guy again. It’s undoubtedly not David himself, but what he reminds Christian of.  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

In the morning, Steve wakes up at his mother’s touch, having slept leaning his head against the nearby wall. Christian still sleeps as Steve gets changed and brushes his teeth in the bathroom. Steve’s mom also brought David back and more importantly, she brought them all fast food breakfast biscuits. Then they’re escorted into Christian’s room where he’s still asleep.

Christian wakes up groggy and confused, but pleased to see Steve still there, Steve’s mom and David too. But he really wakes up when the woman from CPS walks in.

“We’ve contacted your family,” she says immediately. “Your mother is on her way here now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going home is just the beginning

[](http://s567.photobucket.com/albums/ss114/Melodious329/?action=view&current=melodious04cbigger.jpg)

Steve sits in the hard plastic chair by Christian’s bed, his mother and David beside him, the low sound of the television the only noise in the room. He’s exhausted and has a headache for which he absently massages his temples. After the announcement that Christian’s mother was coming, the woman from CPS asked to speak to Christian alone. Steve and his mom and David stood in the hallway waiting and watching as the police had then entered as well. 

He wonders if Christian spoke to the officers because Christian hasn’t said a word to them except telling them to leave him alone as they came back into the room. He even jerked away from Steve’s touch. Steve wonders what the police said but he’s not about to ask.  
But Christian hasn’t asked the nurses to make them leave and so they wait. Maybe Christian forgot they’re even there. It’s like he’s withdrawn entirely into himself and his own fear. They tried to take Christian’s mind off of it, David talked about the other guys from the wrestling team in Oklahoma, Steve talked about Jensen and Jared and Jason, and even Steve’s mom tried rambling about recipes and then the weather. But they stopped when they realized that Christian wasn’t just not participating, he didn’t seem to hear them. 

It’s boring, and maddening and surreal. Frustrated, Steve scratches his greasy scalp and stares at the tv just trying for a second not to stare at Christian pale and tense and oh so sick looking in the hospital bed. He can’t possibly imagine anything that would make him so afraid of seeing his family.  


The sound of the door opening has all four of them freezing in fear, but it’s only the doctor again. Steve’s mom has her hand on each of the boys’ backs, ushering them out before the doctor can even ask them to leave for a moment. 

Christian sees them leave out of the corner of his eye as he stares vaguely at the wall, fingers of his right hand playing with a loose string from the blanket. He feels spaced out, like if he can just keep ignoring everything, keep telling himself that it’s not really happening to him then he’ll be safe. He doesn’t turn his face to look at the doctor who begins to speak again. 

“We’ve gotten some of your test results back,” the doctor says, getting right to the point. “Because of your situation and age, we tested you for the sexually transmitted infections gonorrhea and Chlamydia, and you tested positive.” 

Christian shifts in the bed, his limbs seeming limp and unresponsive to his will. But he still doesn’t look over at the man in the white coat. What does it matter? He’s a whore, diseased and disgusting, poison to the people around him. Now he just has the tests to prove it. 

“These are easily cured with a shot of antibiotics. You’ll need to be abstinent or use condoms for…” the doctor continues, but Christian isn’t listening. 

He tunes out again, just like when they came and asked where he got the drugs, and his age, and his name, when they asked about his momma and his home and why he ran away. He doesn’t want to know about it. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be here at all. 

It would have been better if Steve hadn’t found him, Christian thinks morosely, if he had just been left to die. There’s no point anyway. He may as well be dead because he’s a giant waste of space who only hurts everyone around him. The best that he can hope for is somehow getting out of his room and ending up back on the streets where he was. 

It’s then he realizes that the man is calling his name. On reflex, he responds by looking over towards the sound. 

“We need you to tell us all of your sexual partners from the past three months so that they can be treated as well,” the doctor repeats.

Horrified, Christian’s mouth literally drops open. Steve. He can’t be here when they tell Steve he gave the other teen a STD, he can’t. Steve should have known not to touch him, not to invite him into Steve’s house but still he can’t bear to see their reactions, Steve and his mom, their rejection. 

Besides they used a condom, Christian rationalizes desperately. Unlike most of the nameless, faceless men he’s fucked. 

“I don’t remember,” Christian stutters out. “I don’t know any of them.”

It’s the same thing he said when they asked him about the drugs and the sex. He said he thought the guy he slept with was a teenager too, so they wouldn’t think it was statutory rape or anything stupid. They can’t do anything. Even if they think they know that he had sex with Steve, they said they can’t tell anyone about his sexual health. He turns his face back to the wall. 

***

The nurse tries to get the three of them to go sit in the waiting room, but Steve won’t budge. He wants to be there for Christian as soon as the doctor leaves. He’s not going to leave the other teen to face this alone. 

But separated from Christian, his mind turns to what he’s going to do when Christian leaves. What if Christian doesn’t want to go with his mom? What if they drag him away kicking and screaming? There’s nothing Steve can do to stop it. 

“Mom?” Steve asks hesitantly. “What are we gonna do? We can’t stop them from taking him, but he’s so scared…”

Steve’s voice trails off as he scrunches up his face and bites his lip to fend off the sudden wetness in his eyes. But her arm is there, pulling their shoulders together. 

“He doesn’t want to go back, but maybe it is the best thing,” she answers soothingly. “Maybe this is his opportunity to fix things. You’ll stay in touch. All the ways you kids stay in constant contact nowadays, cell phones, text, twitter, facebook, surely you’ll find a way to talk,” she says and he smiles as she laughs and squeezes him close. 

“You should exchange numbers with David, here,” she continues, serious. “And if Christian needs us, we’ll make a trip, and we’ll call child welfare, and whatever has to be done. He’s not going to fall through the cracks again.”

Startled, Steve leans back a little to look her in the face and he can see the determination there. He’s turning his face to see David when someone else catches his eye. 

It’s her, walking towards them with the woman from CPS. She’s got the same dark hair, tan skin, and blue eyes as Christian. Steve can’t breathe for the moment it takes the woman to hurry past. 

***

Christian doesn’t even look over when the door opens again, not until he hears his name spoken by the voice he hears in his memories, his nightmares, and his dreams. 

“Momma?” he whispers, sitting up in shock and feeling suddenly all of two years old as his legs draw up under the blankets. 

She sweeps closer, sitting on the bed, and Christian can see tears on her cheeks. It’s that sight that breaks him, he hates to see her cry and suddenly he’s sobbing himself, his face pinched as he tries to draw a broken breath through his mouth that he covers with a hand. 

“Chris, baby,” she starts again, controlling her own tears as she reaches a hesitant hand towards his face. “I’m so glad you’re alright, I was so worried, I…” The words are frantic before she cuts herself off again. 

Her hand finally makes contact, gently touching his cheek then sweeping up through the longer pieces of his hair. “Shhhh…it’s gonna be alright,” she soothes, thin tight lips trying to turn up in a brief attempt at a smile. 

The attempt is too much though as her face then falls just as her hand falls to Christian’s shoulder. “Why?” she asks. “Why did you leave me?”

He reacts like he’s been stabbed, crying out sharply and throwing himself back onto the half-raised hospital bed. “I’m sorry,” he sobs, breaking out into fresh tears. 

Her hands are no longer hesitant as she curves them around his shoulders then, pulling his thin body into her own chest despite his weak struggles. “I’m not going to be mad,” she says. “But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Enveloped in her arms, his struggles and sobs quiet as he brings a hand up between them to wipe his face uselessly. “I didn’t mean to,” he starts, his breath hitching with unshed tears. “I didn’t, but I…”

“Was it Michael?” she prompts, her hands rubbing his back. 

“No,” he answers glumly. “It was Mr. Morgan,” he admits as he starts to cry again. “I slept with Jeff.”

“What?” she asks, horror in her voice that he knew would be there, her hands frozen and heavy on his back. She doesn’t believe him, she blames him…sobs shake his exhausted body even as he again tries to scrabble away from her and her rejection, but she doesn’t let go. 

“Chris, stop. It’s ok, just tell me what you mean. You had sex with Mr. Morgan? When?” she asks, her voice getting breathless at the end. 

“All the time,” Christian cries out, his hands covering his face. 

“When did it start?” she asks more frantically, “You were…you were nine when he…When did it start, Chris? What did he do? Where were you…?”

“Ever since I started wrestling…” Christian shakes his head, breaking off into sobs that prevent him from breathing. He can’t tell her about it. 

She pulls him even closer so they’re pressed together, his hands claw-like as he clings to the shoulders of her shirt. “It’s ok,” she murmurs as he cries. “It’s not your fault. I’m not mad.”

With tear-clouded eyes, he sees her turn her face, looking towards the woman from Child Services that he’d forgotten about until now. Not wanting to see their audience, Christian turns his face back into his momma’s shoulder, the material getting damp by the second. 

It takes a while for Christian to calm down, but when he does, he’s worn out, limp on his momma’s shoulder. He lets her gently push him to lie back down on the bed, but he averts his eyes from her familiar blue ones and the eyes of the CPS woman who comes closer. 

The woman’s gentle as she gets the attention of Christian’s momma with a hand on her arm. “You’ll need to speak to the doctor before he can be released. I’ll stay with him for a minute if you need to go to the bathroom to collect yourself,” she offers. 

Christian’s momma stands at the woman’s suggestion, stiff and awkward as she wipes away the smears of makeup underneath her eyes. He stays still and quiet as her eyes drift over him, but then she nods. 

“I’ll be right back, honey,” she whispers. 

Christian’s eyes slowly follow his momma as she leaves, suddenly scared that she won’t be back. Why would she come back for him now that she knows? He curls further in the fetal position, tears still dampening the pillow. 

It’s the sound of the CPS woman’s voice that reminds Christian that she’s still in the room with him. He glances at her then his wide frightened eyes look away as she steps closer, trying to seem unconcerned. 

“She’ll be right back, and then she’ll take you home,” she says sympathetically, as she steps closer. “That was really brave. You did the right thing, telling her what happened. I’ll call the authorities in Oklahoma and they’ll be there to check on you and your family, make sure that you’re safe.”

Christian doesn’t care, his eyes return to watching the door. The only thing he cares about is his momma coming back and still not being mad at him. He feels like he can’t breathe until then, a weight sitting heavy on his chest, heavier than ever before. 

***

Steve feels like he hasn’t breathed since the CPS woman lead Christian’s mom inside, switching places with the doctor who came out immediately after. He’s been trying to listen, but his mom made them move down the hall a little, too far away for them to see or hear anything. He supposes that Christian does deserve a little privacy for this reunion even if it’s killing him not to know. 

He practically jumps into the air when Christian’s mom walks past them, slow and quiet, her head bowed a little. Suddenly he has a strong desire to melt into the wall. He feels embarrassed around her, like he’s been purposefully keeping Christian from her. He’s horrified when she suddenly slows and looks right at them. 

“David?” she questions, looking truly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uhhh…I came to find Christian,” the other teen stumbles out. 

Steve’s thinking that answer isn’t much of an explanation, but then her expression hardens. “Did you know?” she spits, suddenly angry. “Did you know Morgan touched him?” But her anger dissipates and her face sags halfway through the second question, dissolving  
into tears and pain. 

She doesn’t wait for David to answer though. She ducks her head again, her hands covering her face as she starts to move quickly down the hallway again. 

Stunned into silence, the three of them of them simply stand there. The meaning of her words is clear, touched him can only mean sexually…

He’s startled out of that thought by the feel of his mom’s arm sliding across his shoulders. When he looks up he can see that her other arm is holding David too despite that he’s taller than she is. His brain can’t even process what Christian being abused like that really means, even though they’ve suspected it. What does Christian feel about it, he wonders. Christian ran away so that this guy, his coach, wouldn’t touch him anymore so it’s no wonder Christian didn’t want to go back. 

“Did you?” Steve whispers suddenly across his mother to the other teen. “Did you know what was happening?”

“No,” David responds immediately and Steve can see the honestly in his dark eyes. 

But he also sees the guilt. Steve can relate. The idea of abuse seems so impossible. It happens to people on tv, people far away, not to their neighbors and their friends. 

What do they do now? Steve thinks about the past week, how he fumbled around without a clue how to make things better, how Christian actually felt. But now that they know what happened to Christian, he still has no idea what to do. What is he supposed to say, by telephone no less, that’ll do any good?

His thoughts are interrupted as Christian’s mom and the doctor are walking back towards them, towards Christian’s hospital room. He wants to say something, anything. This is Christian’s mom and Steve needs her permission to still be in contact with Christian. And he needs to know that she’s going to take care of Christian. 

“Mrs. Kane.” It takes Steve a minute to realize his mom is talking to her, getting her attention. “I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Sandy Carlson. Your son has stayed a couple nights at my home recently.”

Steve can see that Mrs. Kane doesn’t exactly know how to respond, but his mom just keeps going with a warm smile. “I just want to say that I’m so glad that Christian is finally going back to his loving family, even though that’s just the beginning of the healing process. My son, Steve has become good friends with Christian.”

“Ma’am,” Steve interjects. “I just…Christian’s a good friend, a good person,” Steve babbles. He takes a breath trying to figure out what he wants to say. Then he remembers the clothes his mom brought. “Here, these are some clothes Christian can wear. I just wanted to ask your permission to call him, see how he’s doing. Maybe visit sometime?”

Her face is kind when she answers, “Yes,” but it’s clear that she’s overwhelmed, unsure what to say now or what to do with the information. Slowly she closes her mouth and takes the clothes in Steve’s hands. 

Seeming to pull herself together, Christian’s mom asks, “He stayed at your home?”

“Just a couple of nights recently, unfortunately. Steve met your son in the park a few weeks ago,” Steve’s mom answers for him.  
“And y’all were friends?” Christian’s mom continues. 

Steve assumes she’s thinking just like everyone else that it was strange for Steve to take such an interest. 

“Yes,” Steve answers for himself this time. “We started talking in the park and then I asked if he could stay with us,” he says with a glance at his mom. He doesn’t know if he should mention that it was music that brought them together. Maybe Christian considers that private. 

Christian’s mom nods but it’s hesitant like she still has questions. “Would you like to say goodbye?” she asks. “I’m afraid we’ll be leaving as soon as possible to get back.”

“Yes,” Steve answers quickly, face lighting up. “Thank you. I won’t be long,” he continues before he practically dashes down the hallway back to Christian’s room. 

He can hear the two moms talking even as he leaves but he doesn’t care to listen as he opens Christian’s door. Christian is lying back on the half-raised bed looking pale and mostly asleep. He looks a lot like how Steve left him, despondent and withdrawn, except his face is red and blotchy, especially his lips. 

“Christian,” Steve starts moving closer. 

Christian sits up, awake at the sound of his name. He’d almost forgotten about Steve and his mom, figured they were just waiting for him to be picked up so he’d be out of their hair. 

“Are you ok?” Steve asks, shifting in place as he stands there awkwardly. “You know, with your mom being here?”

Christian shrugs. He’s exhausted from his earlier emotional outburst. Even if he wanted to answer questions, he couldn’t answer that one. He’s spent so many years being terrified of how his momma would react if she knew and now she knows. She knows and he’s still terrified. 

Steve frowns at Christian’s apathetic response. Whatever reaction Steve had been anticipating to the arrival of Christian’s mom, apathy isn’t it. 

“I know you didn’t want to go home, but you know you can always call me, no matter what. If you need something or if you’re scared to be back in Oklahoma or someone’s hurting you, my mom and I will come help you.” Steve doesn’t want to tell Christian that he knows what the coach did, but he does want Christian to know he can ask for help. 

Steve takes a little piece of paper out of his pocket with his cell phone and house phone numbers and address written on it. Christian takes it compliant, bright eyes dull. He knows Steve is trying to do the right thing, just like with Mary’s kids, but he also knows Steve’ll never call. Eventually Steve will realize that he can’t be saved from himself. 

He should have just stayed, he thinks. He should have been strong enough to deal with it. Now he’s made everything worse. Now he has to go back and everyone will know he’s a screw-up, a runaway, who couldn’t handle things himself. They’ll all look and whisper, the police and CPS starting rumors about his momma like she’s the one who did something wrong. 

There isn’t much more time, Steve knows Christian’s mom wants to get them on the road. Unsure what to do, Steve takes one more step closer to the bed, close enough so he can put his arms around Christian in a hug. He knows he probably shouldn’t, Christian is stiff in his arms, but he just needed to touch, to reassure physically. 

Christian watches as Steve moves away again, blue eyes seemingly reluctant to look away. Eventually though, Steve has to turn around, leaving Christian sitting there. He doesn’t know what he feels about Steve, about his time with Steve. Steve gave him back the music, gave him some kinda semblance of normality again. But if Steve had really cared about him, he would have wanted sex more than once. Besides Steve is way too good for him, nobody like that will ever want Christian.

And it’s over now, Christian thinks as his mom comes back into the room with a small pile of clothes. 

“Do you need help getting dressed?” she asks. 

He almost scoffs at her, rolls her eyes as most teenagers would. He doesn’t need help to get dressed, but he just swallows down his frustration and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to make her mad already. Looking down at the clothes, he can tell that they’re actually Steve’s clothes. It almost makes him laugh, that Steve will be going home with him in a way. 

He doesn’t laugh though. He simply puts on the clothes as discretely as possible, half under the blankets still, even though a glance at his momma who’s looking out the window to give him privacy. He’s putting on his socks when the door opens, the doctor coming in again with a wheelchair. 

“Ok,” he says sounding more cheery than Christian’s ever seen the man. “Ready to get out of here?”

Like that needs an answer, Christian thinks. Nobody gives a shit what he thinks anyway. But the doctor just keeps on talking. 

“There are no meds that he needs to take with him, rest is all the medicine he needs for a few days and plenty of water. The police and social services will be following up back in Oklahoma, but I do want to encourage you both that Christian be tested for HIV and STIs there as well. Under the circumstances, it’s a necessary precaution.”

Christian goes stock still with fear. The doc’s telling her about the tests? He can’t do that, can he? It takes Christian a minute to realize that the doctor’s telling his mom that he needs to be tested, which is just as bad. Either way the insinuation is that his whoring around has made him diseased. 

But his mom just nods, signing some papers that the doc holds out to her. Christian’s not sure she even heard, or maybe she thinks that Jeff infected him. She’s not screaming at him yet, not rejecting him or just leaving him here, but even so, Christian feels disappointed in a way. He’s not sure what he wants from her, doesn’t know how to deal with this himself much less how she should deal with it. But still…he wishes he knew what she’s thinking. 

He can’t ask though. He’s lucky that she’s reacting as passively as she is and he knows not to rock the boat. Back in Oklahoma that was basically his motto, don’t let anyone see, don’t show his anger or fear or bruises, don’t upset Jeff, and Christian is preparing himself to try to do that again. If his efforts in Steve’s house are any indication though, he’s going to fail miserably. 

So he puts on Steve’s socks and his old ragged tennis shoes without saying a word. It feels a little like after his Dad died, like if they can just ignore the elephant in the room things’ll be ok. And right now he certainly does want to ignore the elephant. 

Sitting down obediently in the wheelchair, the doctor holds open the door for his mom to push him through. Out in the hallway, Christian’s surprised to see Steve and Steve’s mom and David still there, still waiting. Does Steve want something else? He knows he owes them for all the stuff, the food and the clothes and staying at their house, but his momma doesn’t have much money. 

Steve’s mom moves first, her hand swiping through his shaggy hair before moving down to squeeze his shoulder. “It was wonderful to meet you, Christian. I hope everything goes well at home, and we’ll see you soon.”

Standing up, she turns her face to Christian’s mom. “Be sure to call if you need anything.”

Steve moves in next, despite having said goodbye in the room. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? Just to see how the flight went.”

“I’ll see you back in Norman,” David speaks up. “It’s gonna take me at least two days to drive back.”

Christian suddenly feels bad as he realizes how far David has had to drive already. Did David really go through all that just to find him? Why?

He wants to say he’s sorry or something, something to show his appreciation or whatever, maybe his sympathy, but he can’t seem to make his mouth move. Christian’s mom civilly thanks all three for him and then continues pushing him towards the elevator. But as his chair is turned around and backed into the elevator, he can clearly see Steve’s miserable face watching him leave. It makes him feel even more confused because for a moment, Christian wants to stay, wants Steve to come with him. Sometimes he felt like Steve really saw him and still liked him. He remembers fondly baking cookies and lying under the stars. Now he’s going back to pretending nothing’s wrong, nothing’s happened. 

Steve’s eyes are filled with tears by the time the elevator doors close. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, there are too many reasons, Christian leaving, what happened to Christian, the unknown of what might happen to Christian now, the fear that he’ll never see Christian again. His mom’s arm is there around his shoulders again and a glance reveals a sympathetic, worried, and awkward expression on David’s face. 

“Can we go home?” Steve asks, tears in his voice that make him feel five years old again. 

“Course,” his mom replies. “David, would you like to spend the night and get an early start tomorrow?”

“No, ma’am, but thank you. I’m all packed and ready to get started now,” David replies politely. “I want to be there as soon as I can.”

Steve nods. After all the effort David has put into finding Christian, he can well imagine David wants to be there for Christian back at home. And selfishly, Steve wants him there so he can have another person’s point of view on Christian back in Oklahoma. 

“Call me when you get there?” Steve asks. “Or when you see him again?”

It seems like a lot to ask. He and David aren’t exactly friends and David probably doesn’t want to be in constant contact with some random guy he just met. 

But David nods, “Yeah. I think there are a few more things I’d like to know about what Christian was doing here.”

They start to move towards the elevators themselves and they’re waiting there when David speaks again. 

“You know…” the teen starts as if unsure. “Coach Morgan is a nice guy. Everybody likes him, everybody knows him. He goes to church and volunteers and spends time with the kids…”

“And that means he didn’t molest Christian?” Steve snaps. 

“No,” David responds sharply, immediately. “I mean people in Norman might not believe he did. Maybe it’s good that Chris has you guys here, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. He just wants so bad to be in Oklahoma, to see what’s going on there. 

***

Christian easily stands up from the wheelchair to get into the cab. He’s a little weak, like he would be after being sick, but no real lasting effects of his stupidity that he can feel. His momma hovers nearby ready to help, but he knows that his health just makes it easier for her to pretend there’s nothing wrong. She closes the door after him and climbs into the cab from the other side. 

But he knows he sucks at pretending now. He’s too afraid of everything he does, afraid he doesn’t know what to say anymore, how to act. He doesn’t know how she wants him to act. He’s afraid of his own emotions, afraid of how she’ll react to any little thing.  
He wants her to just take over. He wants her to know what to do, what to say, how to act. After living on his own for two years, he wants her to just take care of things. By himself, he just fucks everything up. 

He’s startled when she moves, her hand running through his hair that’s now too long and shaggy. The unexpected touch has his heart pounding and his breath shortening in sudden fear and revulsion. It takes a second for him to remember it’s her, that he should want her to touch him, should want her affection. His eyes flicker up to her face then down to his own lap, unsure where to land. 

“Your hair’s a little longer than when you left,” she says, almost absently. 

“I’ll have it cut,” he says immediately, eager to please. 

“If you want. We still have those clippers if you want me to do it for you,” she offers, her fingers still playing in his hair, sweeping it to one side off his forehead. 

“Sure,” he answers quickly, perhaps too quickly. Though he’s uncomfortable with her attention, with her touch, but he can’t move away despite the sinking stone in his gut. He can’t tell her to stop. “Thanks,” he whispers. 

She moves her hand from his hair, but doesn’t stop touching him, running her hand over his shoulders as he hunches forward  
unconsciously. “I’m so happy to have you back,” she says softly, intensity clear in her voice. “I never stopped looking. I called the police asking about you a month ago.”

Pausing, she squeezes him to her chest but he still can’t bear to look up at her. He can’t quite believe what she’s saying. How can she feel that way now that she knows? Maybe it’ll take time for the knowledge to sink in. 

But she continues, “I love you, Christian. No matter what happened.”

“It happened,” Christian defends, startled into looking up. 

She smiles but her eyes are dark and worried. “I believe you,” she says. 

Fortunately, they’re arriving at the airport. His momma pays the driver and wipes her tired eyes as she gets out. 

He shakes his head angrily as he opens his own door and follows. He has no idea why he tried to defend himself, why he wants her to believe what happened. It’d probably be better if she didn’t, if they both just forgot. But he knows this is just the beginning. He ran away for two years. That can’t be forgotten and everyone will want to know why. 

She keeps her hand on his back as they walk into the building through sliding doors. When he sees the crowd of people inside, he can’t help flinching back, can’t help that she can feel his weakness or that way that she has to push him to keep going towards the counters labeled check-in. 

He’s tense, anxiously scanning the mass of people all around, his breath short and fast. He’s never been on an airplane before, and the airport is chaotic with people rushing all around with their bags, people looking at him, seeing him. 

A tall man brushes past him forcefully and he gasps, suddenly feeling hot, trapped, crushed. His momma is still pushing him through the crowd, but when he bumps into another person, he looks up not to see the face of the stranger in front of him, it’s Jeff’s face he sees. Suddenly he’s back in Jeff’s bedroom, Jeff towering over him as he’s pushed toward the bed. 

His momma pulls him away, keeping him close as she tries to maneuver them to the end of the line. The sweat on his skin has turned to ice and he shivers in cold fear as he shakes his head, shaking off the memory that’s intruded into his present. 

He leans into her as they stop to stand in line, trying to breathe again as he reminds himself that he’s not there, he’s not that small anymore. But he knows that he still feels that small with Jeff. 

The line is fairly short, and constantly moving. Soon his momma is holding what Christian assumes are their boarding passes. Not that she gives him one. She simply leads him through the crowd of people, past a few stores and restaurants and straight into another line. It seems like everything is going as fast a whirlwind, everything’s a blur around him as he’s ushered around. 

His momma must interpret his expression as questioning and she explains, “This is the security line. Do you have anything in your pockets?”

“Umm...they’re not mine,” he reminds her needlessly as he puts his hands in his pockets. All he finds is the small piece of paper with Steve’s contact information on it which he holds up for her to see. 

“That’s fine, you can put that back. When we get to the front, you’ll have to take off your shoes and put them on the conveyor belt,” she says. 

Suddenly they’ve come to a woman seated at a small podium asking for their IDs. Horrified, he jerks his head to look at his momma. He doesn’t have an ID, never went to even get his learning permit. Did she know he needed one?

His momma’s still calm though, as she hands over her own driver’s license and both tickets before saying, “I have his birth certificate if you need it.”

Turning his face back away, he feels relieved that they’re going to be able to get on the plane, but also angry, angry that he didn’t know what was going on, that he’s not included and instead being shepherded around like a little kid, like he didn’t survive by himself for two years. 

They move past the woman’s station, still waiting in line that’s a crush of humanity. Automatically, he resists her attempts to push him forward, wary of standing too close to the man in front of him. He doesn’t like this, all the people and the chaos and the waiting, the anticipation of going home, going home and being with his momma and his sister and…Jeff. 

***Chris is fourteen years old at the end of his freshman year of high school, a little short for his age with short spiky hair. It’s not wrestling season, but it’s not unusual for him to be heading to the Coach’s office after school anyway. 

As soon as he opens the door to the office though, the first thing he sees is a red letter jacket. He hadn’t even told his momma about them, they were too expensive. But he wanted one.

Standing there in awe, he looks up to see Jeff’s smiling face, finally taking the gift when Jeff pushes it at him. 

“Thank you,” Christian whispers. 

“Go ahead,” Jeff responds. “Put it on.”

Chris does so immediately, running his hands down the front. He’s not surprised when Jeff’s hand grips his chin, tilting his face up and holding him still for a brief possessive kiss. 

“You were great this season,” Jeff continues, causing Chris to duck his face away. “You were. I think you’re the best wrestler I’ve ever trained.”

Chris shakes his head at the excessive praise, but it doesn’t stop Jeff. “You don’t even need me anymore. It’s time to start training my next champion.”

“What do you…I need you,” Chris insists, confused. “I wanna win still.”

Jeff pulls him into a large muscular chest. “You are a winner. You’re just gonna get better. But there’s a little boy on the middle school team right now that shows a lot of promise. I was thinking I’d invite him to have dinner with the two of us.”

It takes a minute for the meaning of Jeff’s words to filter in past all the memories. “Like I had dinner with you and…Michael?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah,” Jeff confirms, running his hand down Chris’s back. “Like that.”

“No,” Chris breathes out, horrified. “Not another…I can be better, whatever you want. Don’t…”

Chris is still pressed against Jeff as the older man answers with finality. “Yes, you will.”

“No!” Chris shouts unexpectedly, surprising them both with his anger, his defiance. He pulls out of Jeff’s grasp before Jeff can think to stop him. 

Chris doesn’t know how he manages to get away, but he’s out the door before he can really think.***

He jumps when someone hits his back, only to realize it’s just his momma. He doesn’t relax knowing it’s her so close behind him though. 

She doesn’t seem to notice how tense she is as she places both her hands on his shoulders again. “You’re taller,” she mentions casually. He’s about as tall as she is now. “You’ll be as tall as your father, I bet.”

He goes still again with surprise. She doesn’t often mention him, not even the most casual comment. To mention him now seems cruel. He won’t be as tall as Dad, he’s still too short, too scrawny and pathetic. He’ll never be half the man his father was. 

His momma pushes him again and he looks up to see they’ve reached the front of the line. Hastily, he toes off his shoes and places them on the conveyor belt. He can see the uniformed man on the other side of the metal detector and he gets worried that he’s going to fuck up somehow, that he’s going to be reprimanded. Walking through quickly, Christian circles around the man, keeping just out of arms reach and hoping that he did everything right. 

The man doesn’t even acknowledge him, is too busy motioning for his momma to come through. Tucking his head down and turning away, Christian grabs his shoes and waits anxiously for her to collect her own shoes and purse. 

She’s back beside him quickly, like she doesn’t trust him without her for a second. Her hand on his back, she leads them over to a few chairs where they put their shoes back on. 

“What would you like to eat?” she asks as he’s still retying his shoes. “Anything you want, honey.”

Christian doesn’t look up as he tries to sound indifferent, tries not to let her see how the question fills him with dread. “Whatever you want is fine.”

He doesn’t need to look up to see that she’s not happy with that response, but he really doesn’t want anything to eat. His stomach just seems like a ball of lead. But he doesn’t want her to be upset, doesn’t want her to think that he’s ungrateful. 

“A hamburger,” he blurts into the continued silence. “I want…a burger’s fine.”

“Great,” she says and he can hear the relief. He almost smiles himself, knowing that he got it right. 

“Well,” she starts, standing up. “There are plenty of burger joints in here, but I know your favorite is Burger King. Let’s see if we can find one.”

Christian lets himself be pushed along, but his enthusiasm has dimmed at the prospect of actually having to eat while she watches him. 

“Steve seems like a nice boy. How did you meet him?” She asks as they walk through the crowd. 

Christian hesitates before answering. He’s not sure how much to tell her, how much she really wants to know. He’s not sure how much he wants her to know. “We met in the park there…in LA.”

“And you lived with him and his family for the last week?” she continues. 

“No, well, I just stayed there for a little…yeah, like a week maybe,” Christian says, unsure how to describe what he was doing with Steve’s family. Particularly since he was only there a short time. 

He chances a glance at her and it seems as if she’s weighing her next words. “They seemed to really care for you. I just…” He looks away as she seems to break down again, rubbing her forehead with one hand for a second. 

“Did you like it there?” she asks then, changing direction, suddenly asking about Steve like he’s a friend Christian is asking to spend the night with. She’s acting like he had a choice to stay there. 

Christian goes stiff. It’s the same old song and though it’s what Christian expected, for his momma to just ignore everything, it hurts. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Yeah, I guess so. We made dinner one night…” Christian trails off, hoping giving her that one example will stem the tide of her curiosity.

She turns to look directly at him, looking surprised and impressed. “That’s nice. You do want to keep in contact with him, right? He was adamant about calling you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, surprised that Steve had spoken to his momma. “He’s nice.”

“Good,” she says, steering him over to the other side where he now sees the Burger King sign. “You want the usual?”

She orders for him and the food comes up quickly. He carries the tray over to the table that she picks out. Looking down at the food with dismay, Christian feels the bile rise up in his throat just looking at it. Fast food, just like Jeff often used to buy him. He decides the best way to get the food down and not disappoint his momma is to eat it quickly. 

As Christian chows down on his burger, his momma is the one only picking at her meal. She looks up at him and smiles. “I’m glad you’re enjoying that, but you might wanna breathe” she teases. 

Christian only nods, practically not even chewing his food before he swallows. She eats a few fries before speaking again. “You’re not thinking of running away again?” she asks, looking over at Christian who feels completely frozen by the question. “I’m going to take care of this, ok? Whatever you need. I just can’t believe…I, of course, I believe you. I’m just…shocked that he could have…”

Swallowing the last of his hamburger, Christian drops his hand back to his lap. “I won’t,” he says, answering her first question. He hopes it’s a promise he won’t have to break. He has no idea how any of this is going to be ok. He hasn’t been to school in two years so he won’t be able to just go back. And even if he did go to school or get a job, everyone will know that he ran away, they’ll know what he did on the streets, it’ll be obvious. 

And then there’s Jeff. He doesn’t know what to expect from the man. Jeff is probably angry. Jeff could take back all the things he gave Christian’s family. Or he might not even care that Christian is back. Jeff was done with Christian two years ago, pushing him aside like Jeff had never cared about him at all. Like Christian wasn’t worth caring about. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp pain in his stomach followed by a roll of nausea, the undigested food pushing itself up. He’s stumbling out of his chair, about to run off to the bathroom they passed when he realizes that he can’t just do whatever he wants anymore. 

“Bathroom,” he mumbles quickly. He rushes off, trying to maneuver around all the other people milling about. His stomach has settled enough that he has time to close the door of a stall behind him and squat down before the nausea rises, the burger forcing its way back up. 

He takes his time cleaning up, but when he comes out, he’s unsurprised that his momma is waiting right outside the bathroom. 

“Here,” she says handing over a bottle of water that he takes gratefully. “I know you must be hungry, but I should have told you to slow down. Do you want some crackers?”

Christian only shakes his head and takes another sip of water. She sighs and places her hand back on his back between his shoulder blades. 

“Ok. Well, we should head over to the gate I think,” she says discouraged. 

***

The front door bangs open as Steve rushes into the house. He ignores his Dad’s confused and irritated question as he heads directly for his room, slamming that door as well. 

He’d held back the tears all the way home, his face scrunched up all through his mom’s chatter of how this is what’s best for Christian, now he’ll get the help he needs, they’ll visit Oklahoma before the summer is over. Now he flings himself on his still-made bed, letting go of the tears and the sobs. 

One hand reaches for his pillow, pulling it close so he can curl into it and the other grabs the nearby box of tissues, holding one tissue to his face like a curtain. He can’t even think, there are just jumbled images in his head: Christian drunk at the party, Christian naked and distraught on the floor of the guest bedroom after, Christian’s fear when he saw David, Christian’s fear after he’d overdosed, Christian being wheeled away by the mother that let that happen to her son!

Christian’s behavior makes so much sense now, his preoccupation with sex, how Mary said he slept with all those homeless guys, his fear of Steve’s Dad, running away, drug use, everything. But they just let him go back there, back to where that guy is, the coach. They let him go back to a family that, yeah David said she wanted Christian back, but she hadn’t cared enough to notice her son was being abused. 

And now Steve’s supposed to be satisfied with calling Christian. He doesn’t even know if Christian will talk to him, and even if Christian does, he doesn’t know if it’ll be the truth. But more importantly, Steve won’t be able to look at Christian, to touch him, to be with him. There won’t be any playing guitar together or making cookies together or anything. Steve feels like the something more that he wanted has just been snatched away by distance more surely than by all of Christian’s problems. 

Eventually the tears slow and Steve sniffles into his tissue. He can’t imagine how Christian feels. How would he feel to be so scared he couldn’t tell his mom that someone was touching him when he didn’t want it? Steve thinks about how excited he had been about having sex for the first time when he thought it would be Misha. How would he feel to have had that important moment simply taken away from him? And Steve remembers that when Christian spoke of the coach, he didn’t seem to resent the man at all. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, but he doesn’t manage to compose himself enough to respond before his mom walks in. Warily, Steve lifts his head from the pillow, his un-showered hair escaping the band. A few more tears leak from his eyes into the pools already on his cheeks as he looks up at her with his red face and even redder lips. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she says even as she’s sitting on his bed, reaching on hand out to his shoulder. 

“I’m not hungry,” he answers petulantly, dropping his face back down to the pillow. 

She sighs in response, but it’s soft. “I know a lot of things have happened recently, and it’s ok to be upset and to cry, but I’d like you to eat something. You can eat it in here.”

A few more tears seep out before Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a second and wipes his face again with a new tissue. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to talk but he doesn’t want her spiel of how this is what’s best for Christian again. 

Sighing once more, she tries again. “Do you wonder how Christian is doing?”

“Yes,” he answers but it comes out as a high-pitched whine. He feels like an idiot, like a baby but he can’t seem to stop crying yet. “I know you think it’s best for Christian, but she let him be abused. He was so scared,” sobs interrupt his whining. 

“I know you want to be mad at her, and I confess to feeling some anger myself, but, you have to keep in mind that we don’t know the  
whole story. From what I could see, she genuinely cares about Christian,” she says in that too-reasonable, adult voice. 

“He was only here a week, and we could all see that there was something wrong with him!” Steve accuses. “Why couldn’t she?”

“We don’t know how he acted then. We knew him after he’d been on the streets for two years. I want to believe that I would know if something…awful was happening to you, if something was happening to one of your friends, but we haven’t been in their shoes. I just know that so many cases go unreported because it’s not as easy as you think it is. Kids just being kids act crazy for no reason at all,” she says trying to make him smile. He just stares at her though. 

“And she was a newly single mother trying to make ends meet. From what David said this coach is respected, there was no reason not to trust him,” she finishes. 

“Whatever.” Steve doesn’t really want to think about it right now. He’s just upset and trying to wrap his head around the fact that Christian is gone. 

She’s silent for a long moment, and he knows that she wants to sigh again. “I’m more worried that she won’t call if things turn out badly. We’re complete strangers who live 20 hours away, but it doesn’t seem like they had anyone else to turn to.”

Hearing his mother’s very real fear that this whole keeping in touch thing won’t work definitely isn’t helping Steve. He glares half-heartedly at her. 

She pats his shoulder quickly before standing up. “We’re gonna do everything we can and we’ll go see them before the summer’s over,” she reiterates before going out of his room and leaving the door open. She returns after a moment with a plate, fork and napkin. 

Sitting up, Steve wipes his face again and blows his nose. He sits cross-legged as he picks up the fork, but then he reconsiders, turning on the tv to reruns of Criminal Minds as his mom brings him a glass of water. 

He doesn’t really eat that much, and he’s not really paying that much attention to the tv, but it does make him feel better. But it’s the guilt that stays with him, telling him that he should be miserable, as miserable as Christian undoubtedly is right now. 

Stabbing his meatloaf absently, Steve looks at the clock and makes a decision. Grabbing his phone, he calls Jensen as he turns the tv to mute. 

“Hey, Steve.” Steve hears ad he hesitates a second before responding because the voice doesn’t sound like Jensen. It’s when the voice laughs, loud guffaws that he realizes it’s Jared. 

“Jared,” Steve finally responds. “Is…?”

He doesn’t get to finish the question when Jared talks over him, “Hey, how’s Christian?”

Steve can’t help the way his emotions seem to lodge in his throat at the simple question. He thought he had shed all the tears that he needed to get out, but the urge is back immediately. But he manages to swallow them down in order to say, “Is Jensen there?”

He can hear how wrecked his voice sounds and from the sudden silence on the other end, he knows Jared could hear it too. But then there’s Jensen’s voice. “Steve? Are you ok?”

“No,” Steve chokes out miserably. He takes a minute to try to compose himself. It’s time to get his emotions under control or he won’t be any good to anybody. “Christian’s gone.” There the hardest part’s over. 

“What?” Jensen’s voice is shocked. “What do you mean gone? Gone where?” 

There’s panic in Jensen’s voice and Steve knows he’s being unnecessarily vague. Time to start at the beginning. 

“Yesterday morning,” Steve cuts in, trying to explain things. “I took Christian to that diner, that good cheap one across from the park?” Fortunately, if anyone can follow this story it’s Jensen.

“Yeah,” Jensen prompts. 

“We were coming out and we ran into someone, a guy Christian knew from Oklahoma,” Steve pauses to hear Jensen’s response. 

“N-no,” Jensen stutters in surprise. 

“Yeah,” Steve retorts needlessly. “And Christian freaked out. The guy was actually a friend of Christian’s here looking for him.” 

“Why here?” Jensen asks reasonably. “Was this guy searching the whole country?” 

Steve shrugs despite that he’s on the phone and remembers when Christian said he ‘ran away to Hollywood’. “He said Hollywood was always Christian’s dream, so he knew Christian would come here.”

“After two years being gone?” Jensen asks again, still trying to wrap his head around this guy’s motives. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies quietly. “Guess he couldn’t go before graduating…but Christian really didn’t want to go back. He took off, just ran away from us.”

“You can’t find him?” Jensen asks, his voice higher in alarm. Steve can hear Jared’s voice too, but Jensen doesn’t stop talking to Steve. “Do you…?”

“No, we found him,” Steve soothes instantly. “The guy, David, and I, but…well, Christian knows the streets, I mean, he could’ve at any time, but…”

“Whoa,” Jensen interrupts. “What are you trying to say? You found Christian….?”

“He’d used drugs, overdosed,” Steve says bluntly before biting his lip to keep his emotions in check. He’d never been so scared in his whole life. “I mean, I guess I should be surprised that he wasn’t doing drugs all along, but I don’t think he was. I think…what if he tried to kill himself?”

Steve doesn’t let Jensen respond, doesn’t want to hear Jensen’ logical, reasonable explanation of things. He just plows ahead, “He’s been so scared of going back home, like he’d do anything to get out of it. I guess that’s why…”

“Is he ok?” Jensen asks, suddenly quiet himself. 

“Yeah,” Steve says the word like it’s a sigh. “I mean, we got him to the hospital in time and everything. But then he was in the system and they called his mom.”

“No,” Jensen breathes out in horror. 

“Yes,” Steve says harshly. “At first I was mad at David, but…Jensen, he…”

Steve suddenly can’t talk as he squeezes his eyes shut. With his eyes closed he listens to the sound of Jensen’s voice. “So his mom came? You saw her?”

With a deep breath, Steve starts again. “His mom was nice, I guess. Quiet and shocked, but, I guess Christian told her…She said his coach touched him.”

“Like touched as in abused?” Jensen asks needlessly. He doesn’t even wait for a response before continuing. “She knew why he ran away?”

“No. Christian must’ve just said it, because she came out of his hospital room and accused David of knowing about the abuse, because they were both wrestlers at school. Seemed like she didn’t know before,” Steve tries to explain the difficult scene. 

“So Christian left,” Steve continues. “Went back to Oklahoma, but he went back to where he was hurt with a mom that didn’t care enough to see that he was hurting. Mom keeps saying how I can call Christian on the phone and make sure he’s ok, and that we’ll go see him in Oklahoma before school starts, but…what can we really do? He’s stuck there,” Steve says miserably.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says genuinely upset. “I can’t believe he’s gone just like that.” 

“I know. And I’m worried. What if he won’t talk to me?” Steve continues ranting. “I mean, he wasn’t exactly chatty, never talked about why he ran away or anything bad. If he’s being hurt again, he won’t tell me even if he does speak to me. This is so stupid. What’s even the point of calling him?” Steve finishes, defeated. 

Jensen jumps in then. “The point is that he’ll know there’s someone who didn’t give up on him. You can’t give up on him. It sounds like y’all might be the only persons who would know or would do anything if things are bad for him.”

“It’s gonna suck,” Jensen continues. “Things are probably even worse for him right now and it’s complicated, but you have to keep up with him no matter what. You know that, Steve.”

Steve sighs. Jensen’s right. It is gonna suck. Not being able to be there with Christian, not knowing what’s really going on, butting into the business of people thousands of miles away. Christian’s not gonna want to talk to him, Christian’s mom’s not going to want to talk to him. Even David’s not gonna want to talk to him, they couldn’t keep from fighting despite that they both want the best for Christian. 

“You’re right,” Steve says. It doesn’t matter how much it’s gonna suck. He’s not gonna be another person who just pushed everything under the rug, another person Christian couldn’t count on, another person who was content to just let Christian disappear. 

“You know you can complain to me any time though,” Jensen says hesitantly but sincerely. “And tell Christian I want a rematch at Rummy.”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a small smile. He wanted Christian to hang out with his friends, and he still thinks that’d be good for Christian, that they’d be the great friends to him as they’ve been to Steve, the kinda friends Christian could really use. But then he thinks of the party. It just feels like someone popped all his balloons, all his dreams. 

“Can you do me a favor,” Steve asks, suddenly remembering. “I just don’t want to have to explain it all again. But I had Jason work my shift on Saturday night while Christian was in the hospital and didn’t tell him why. Could you explain things to him?”

“Everything?” Jensen asks.

Steve sighs again, just like his mom. “I don’t know. It’s Christian’s business, but Jason deserves to know that it was a real emergency. And maybe he deserves to know that Christian didn’t just run away for the fun of it.”

“Well, you know Jason,” Jensen starts. “Maybe I’ll just be vague and see if he asks, but knowing him, he’s ok just believing that it was important, all of it.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling exhausted. “Jared probably overheard this whole conversation, but he better not tell anyone, particularly Chad.”

Jensen’s quiet on the other end and so is Jared. Maybe Steve is being mean, Christian’s attitude rubbing off on him maybe. But Jared’s mouth is as big as the sasquatch’s heart, and that’s just the truth. Jared probably forgave Chad five seconds after the part last Friday. 

“He won’t,” Jensen finally answers softly. 

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Steve finishes the conversation. “Night.”

“Goodnight.”

***

Christian follows his momma down the steps off the plane in Oklahoma, his stomach still rolling a little from the plane’s descent. His first plane ride had been kinda anticlimactic. He was happier that his momma had let him sit by the window so he wasn’t near anyone else than to look out at the sky. They hadn’t talked much except for her asking him if he was doing ok, and Christian had been pretty much asleep in the middle. 

It doesn’t look like Oklahoma yet, like his hometown. It’s just an airport in Oklahoma City. Still, his anxiety ratchets up because he knows he’s back home. 

His momma throws an arm around his shoulders as they enter the building, squeezing him tight. “I’m so happy to have you back home, honey,” she says, her voice tight with excitement or anxiety or both he can’t tell. 

Her hold on him relaxes but she doesn’t release him as she guides them through the mostly empty airport. “Jenny’s so excited to see you. Everyone will be, they’ve all been so concerned, especially Coach M....”

Christian can’t help the way he tenses under her arm as he thinks of seeing Jeff again, fear and disgust, rejection and love, and need all mixed up together. He’s surprised that Jeff cared enough to keep up the pretense with his momma after Jeff tossed him away. Will Jeff even care that he’s back, care what Christian went through getting to LA just to escape helping Jeff destroy someone else? 

“We’re gonna figure this out,” his momma starts again after the short pause, her voice conciliatory. “You don’t have to see him. I’ll tell him to stay away.”

Christian nods, compliant, but he’s surprised. He didn’t expect that, didn’t expect her to keep away the man who helped her get her job and stuff just because of what he said. But he’s grateful and that makes him feel guilty. Because what will people think of her keeping Coach Morgan away? The guy who helped them, got her a job and got her son into wrestling and got her daughter into a scholarship program? What will become of her job if she makes Jeff angry?

“We’ll have to get you some new clothes,” she continues, not acknowledging that she’s worried at all. “All of your pants are going to be too shor…”

She trails off abruptly and Christian jerks his head up to see why. Jeff. He’s standing there, right on the other side of security. And he’s smiling. 

Bile chokes him, rising up in his throat as Christian simply stares at the man in shock, feeling literally frozen in fear. Jeff is here? Jeff wants him back? Wants to punish him? Humiliate him? What? Questions fly frantically through Christian’s mind like tiny knives bringing tears to his eyes, and he can’t breathe. Jeff may as well be crushing the life out of him. 

“Momma,” he chokes out, his voice small and his muscles rigid. He thought he’d be able to deal with Jeff again if that’s what it took to save his family, but faced with the man, he can’t, not with Jeff. Not that man whom he thought really cared about him, but only hurt him.

“Chris!” Jeff cries, lifting up his arms like he’s expecting a hug. “You’re alright. I was so worried…”

Christian’s attention moves to his momma when she moves her arm from across his shoulders to grip his right hand. He’s trembling as gulps in a deep breath, not realizing that he’d been holding his breath. Her expression is unreadable, the tightly blank expression on her face as she drags him forward. 

Christian thinks maybe she’s not going to answer him at all, just ignore that the man’s even there. Jeff’s expression falters like he thinks the same. 

Jeff turns to watch them go, stepping forward with a hand out like he’s going to stop them from leaving. “Pam, wait…” he says firmly. 

It’s that order that has her stopping, pivoting around to look at Jeff. His momma lets go of his hand and takes a single step closer to Jeff. Her hand whips out quickly, faster than his eyes can follow, and it takes Christian a second to realize what happened, to realize that she just slapped the Coach. 

“He’s fine, no thanks to you,” she says sharply, almost a hiss. “Stay away from us.”

Christian’s still stunned when she grabs his hand again, dragging him away from the scene. She’s obviously upset, surprised maybe at her own actions as she swipes a hand under eyes while rushing them away. 

His heart pounds in his chest, every beat breaking him a little more. He feels guilty for hurting her, but his attention is pulled away by the sound of Jeff behind them, calling after them though he can’t tell how angry Jeff is. Christian can’t tell how he feels about what just happened, outside of his mom and Jeff’s reactions. He never wanted to hurt Jeff, only to stop him, but she did, she hurt him, and she took Christian away like he imagined so many times. 

But why did she do it? If she’s mad at Jeff, it’s just a matter of time before she’s mad at him too for what they did. And in the back of his mind he’s still wondering, how mad is Jeff? What if she loses her job over this? What if he ruined everything for her just by telling her?

He keeps his mouth consciously shut, only concentrating on keeping up with her fast pace and not making her angry. He’s breathing fast, practically panting, sucking air into his lungs that still feel like something squeezing his chest. But finally she looks over at him. 

“Don’t look back at him,” she says firmly. 

She leads him through another set of sliding glass doors and into the humid air of the outdoors. She drops his hand then, but only to fumble inside her purse for her phone. 

“I hope your sister’s here on time. I should give her a call,” she says absently, like she hadn’t just slapped someone in public. 

She’s treating him like he’s a kid, like he needs to be protected and kept in the dark, like he doesn’t get a say in how they handle this, this being what he did. And still he just lets her, because he doesn’t want to upset her, and he doesn’t want her to be upset with him, to reject him. He resigns himself to being a quiet shadow of himself again, to stuffing down all of his disappointment and anger. Those emotions aren’t allowed here. 

Suddenly she grabs his hand and they start walking down the sidewalk, looking for Jennifer’s car he realizes. And then he sees her, getting out of the driver’s side of an indistinguishable dark-colored SUV. 

His sister looks the same, as tall as their momma, as tall as he is now, with long straight dark hair and dark eyes. His momma hurries them over, but Jenny doesn’t smile to see them like Jeff did. But she steps forward. 

“Chris, I’m so glad you’re back,” she says. And she hugs him. 

The hug is stiff and awkward. He doesn’t know why he expected anything different. It’s been years since they were close, since they played together. He had his problems and she had her own life, and it’s been two years since they’ve seen each other at all. As soon as they let go, Jenny’s looking at their momma for instructions. 

“I’ll drive,” his momma says, already moving over to the driver’s side. 

“Do you want the front?” Jenny asks him, solicitously. 

“No,” he says quickly. 

He feels like a stranger in their life, more now than he ever has. His heart is still beating triple time at seeing Jeff but he can’t even acknowledge it. 

The drive is quiet at first. He watches the two women in the front seat while gnawing on his thumbnail. Both women are tense, though his momma seems more agitated, rubbing her forehead and changing Jenny’s radio station a few dozen times. But the quiet doesn’t last long enough in Christian’s opinion. His momma goes back to trying to make everything seem normal again. 

She starts prompting Jenny to tell Christian about everything under the sun, her time in college, her major, her job, her boyfriend. Christian listens but doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t seem like Jenny needs or wants his approval or excitement. She’s just obeying their mother. 

He’s relieved it’s a short drive, that they didn’t have to fly into Tulsa or anything. But he’s not prepared for how he feels when they pull in the driveway. 

That house is so many things for him, it was a new beginning and a happy family. It’s where a happy family was shattered. It was where Jeff usually wasn’t, but not where he was safe from Jeff. It’s a place with the promise of hope and love but too often filled with fear and sadness. 

Maybe all those conflicting emotions show on his face or maybe it’s the way he hesitates after climbing out of the car, just looking at the house. But his momma gives him a quick hug and leaves her arm around his shoulders as they begin to walk inside. 

“You’re home, honey. We’re gonna work it all out together,” she whispers. 

He can’t help thinking that this house hasn’t felt like home in a long time. His momma releases him in order to put her keys and purse down once they’re inside the house and he simply stands there awkwardly, purposeless. When Jenny follows them inside, he’s surprised since he had just heard about her apartment. 

“Did you want anything to eat?” his momma asks, heading toward the kitchen. “I’m off work til Friday so I’ll make some of your favorites, but for now I could make you a sandwich? Or cereal?” 

“No,” he replies meekly, hoping she won’t be upset. “I’m tired so I don’t think I wanna eat.” He doesn’t mention her taking time off to be with him, doesn’t know what to think of it. 

“Well at least drink some water,” she says as she brings him a glass. “Jenny made up your room and put a new toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Jenny’s already lounging on the couch as he stands awkwardly near the door. He sees their momma shoot her a pointed look like she should be doing something though none of them know what that should be. 

Pre-empting them, he says, “I think I’ll just take a shower go to sleep then.”

His momma almost seems disappointed, like she thought they were going to stay up and gossip or something. Jenny just looks like she  
has no idea what the right answer is. 

“Ok, honey,” his momma says going over to the doorway of his room like he’s forgotten where it was. “Do you think you have everything you need?” she asks needlessly. 

When he nods, she gives him a kiss on his forehead and whispers, “I love you. Goodnight.”

It’s almost worth it even as she closes the door behind her, leaving him in his room alone. The room he cried himself to sleep over his Dad and over Jeff, the bathroom where he’d puke, where he’d be afraid to go to the bathroom because his asshole hurt already. It’s not a room in a small house in suburbia. It’s like a mausoleum, like a museum. It’s history. 

He knows he’s not going to be getting much sleep tonight. There’s a t-shirt and big sweatpants folded neatly on the bed so he picks those up and then has to leave his bedroom to get to the bathroom. He walks there without meeting anyone’s eyes. 

In the bathroom, he slowly strips his clothes like he never does and stares at his reflection in the mirror as he’s done so many times before. He can remember doing it when he was much shorter, after he had first met Jeff. He stared in that mirror and tried to see what Jeff saw. But then for years after that, he’d avoid the mirror completely, stripping off his clothes as quickly as possible with his head down, his back to the mirror. 

Finally he steps into the shower. As much as he wants to just stand in the hot water, stand there as if the water could wash it all away, what he did with Jeff, his running away, his diseases, him. He wishes he could wash himself away. But he makes sure not to take too long just in case Jenny needs the bathroom too.

***

Steve wakes the next morning to the jarring sound of his alarm. After waking several times in the night feeling like he can’t get comfortable, he feels like he just went to sleep. 

But this morning he doesn’t need to rush over to the guest bedroom to release Christian. Christian’s not there. He won’t be seeing Christian later or playing the guitar to Christian in the park or anything. 

There’s only going to work the morning shift at the record store, with Jason. He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t really wanna sit around the house all day with his mom and his thoughts either. 

Frustrated, he climbs off the bed and goes to shower. He definitely doesn’t want to be late after what he totally bailed on Jason.  
Dressed, he steps out of his bedroom to the surprising smell of breakfast cooking. It almost has Steve going to check the guestroom to make sure Christian isn’t inside. 

But he doesn’t. He carefully approaches the kitchen table where his mom has placed a plate stacked with pancakes. 

“Is Dad here?” Steve questions, confused at the sight. 

“No, he’s gone to work like every other weekday,” she says nonchalantly, as if she doesn’t know why he asked. Then she sets two mugs of ovaltine at the two table settings. 

“Then why’d you make breakfast?” he continues. 

“I just thought you might like it,” she answers with a shrug. “Make you feel better.”

“Not likely,” he grumbles under his breath as he takes his seat. 

Pancakes aren’t really gonna make up for losing Christian, make up for the tearing in his heart that he and Christian may never have a proper chance. It certainly doesn’t help the way that he feels like a failure like he tricked Christian, convinced Christian he’d help and then turned Christian in. 

Just another reason why Christian probably won’t want to see Steve ever again. Steve stabs a pancake with his fork, then another, moving them to his plate. 

“What time do you think I should call him?” Steve asks abruptly. He starts hurrying to shove the pancakes into his mouth as he looks at the clock. “I could call him before work, see how it’s going,” he suggests with his mouth full. 

His mom sits down at the table and picks up her mug of chocolate. “I don’t think so, dear. He needs a little time with his family. And besides, this soon after returning home, he probably doesn’t have much to tell. This afternoon will be better, and you’ll have more time to talk then.”

He knows she’s right, of course she is, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. Undoubtedly Christian doesn’t expect him to call and he’d like to know now if Christian isn’t going to talk to him. And he wants Christian to know immediately that he hasn’t abandoned the troubled teen. 

“He’ll think I’m not gonna call at all,” Steve grumbles, ill-tempered. 

She gives him a withering look. “Well, then you’ll have to prove him wrong, later. Now stop eating so fast.”

The meal is finished in silence and then Steve’s off to the store. Jason has every right to be pissed at this point, first Steve  
wouldn’t tell him about Christian then he’s taking breaks and then doesn’t come to work at all but still he can’t really explain what’s going on. 

He just can’t figure out how much to say. It should be Christian’s decision about who to tell. Steve knows he wouldn’t want everyone to know if it were him, but then Christian will probably never be back to LA, never see these people again. 

Steve had to tell Jensen even though he maybe shouldn’t have. He needed to talk to someone besides his mom about everything, but Jason…but not telling feels like a secret. And since Steve came out as gay, he doesn’t want to have anymore secrets. Not telling leaves Jason to draw his own conclusions and Steve knows people aren’t likely to give Christian the benefit of the doubt. What if Jason thinks Christian manipulated him to get food and stuff like Chad thought? Jason might blame Christian for the overdose and the drama, think that Steve shouldn’t help someone so self-destructive, unable to see how hard Christian is trying. 

It makes Steve worry that people won’t believe what Christian says about the coach, just like David said. What then? 

Parking his car, he feels like screaming out the stress. He really thought he and Christian had something, that Christian could really be it, but everything about Christian is stressful. And the fact that Steve can just walk away from it all just makes him feel so guilty. Christian can’t walk away, Christian’s family can’t walk away. And if Steve feels anything at all for Christian, for the guy that Steve cared enough about to have sex with for the first time, then Steve can’t walk away either. 

Steve’s car is the only car in the lot so he knows he’s there first and sets about unlocking the store and turning on the lights, checking the register and signing in. He’s sitting down behind the checkout counter when Jason walks in. 

It’s awkward from the first moment. Steve barely knows how to start. 

“Hey,” he says hesitantly. 

Even Jason can’t ignore the awkwardness. His steps slow as he comes toward the counter to put his backpack down. “Hey,” he replies in a questioning tone. 

“Listen,” Steve jumps in. “I’m so sorry for bailing on my shift the other day.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jason responds easily. 

But the accepted apology doesn’t dissipate the awkwardness because Steve isn’t elaborating on why he had to miss, why he called Jason semi-hysterical that night. 

“You don’t have to explain,” Jason says, uncharacteristically serious. “It was an emergency and Christian gets to decide who to tell.”

“It was an emergency,” Steve asserts defensively. “I just…I don’t want all of you to blame Christian or something or think that he’s manipulating me.”

“What?” Jason asks, suddenly confused. “I don’t think that.” Jason stops and takes a breath before continuing, “Don’t listen to Chad and Welling and those guys, Steve. Some people just aren’t going to see past the guy being homeless.” Jason shrugs. 

“I know. It was bad enough here with the guys, but back home. What if they don’t believe him? What if they blame him?” Steve lets his anxiety out again. “I mean, why do you…?”

Jason smiles, the expression lightening the mood almost immediately. “Dude, the anxiety was written all over his face,” he explains. “He was only fooling himself acting big and tough.”

Steve sighs. His best friends are standing by him, standing with Christian and he knows that that support can really help Christian. But it all depends on what’s happening in Oklahoma.

*** 

The next morning Christian wakes in a panic. He opens his eyes to still see the monstrous bear that chased him in his nightmare, roaring and baring huge razor-sharp teeth. Curled in a fetal position, he clutches at his blankets, hiding in his bed like a little kid afraid of monsters in the closet. 

His breathing evens out slowly, but he’s still terrified, terrified to leave his bed and terrified to go back to sleep. He has a fleeting thought that he’d like to take a shower, like to try again to make himself clean enough to deserve to live in this house with his family. But he doesn’t want to leave his room. He doesn’t want to see anyone yet, doesn’t want anyone wondering about his showering habits. 

For an hour, he simply lies there in bed trying to keep himself awake, but eventually he can’t stand it anymore. He has to get up, has to do something, and he ends up going through all the old junk in his room. Being back in his room doesn’t feel weird. He remembers all these things, the furniture, the few books that he bothered to read back then, the clothes that he’s too tall to wear now. Clothes he wore to school, to wrestling practice, to David’s house, to Jeff’s house. He touches a red tshirt, and he can practically feel Jeff’s hands peeling the shirt off of him. 

But it’s him that’s weird amongst all these normal things. He feels scraped raw, exposed, angry and guilty and miserable. His mind goes to the last time he was in this room.

*** Fourteen year old Chris slams the front door of his house, the sound loud and angry in the empty space. He rushes immediately into his bedroom. 

He’s in so much trouble. He shouldn’t have hit Michael, but he had just been so angry. He had no idea that he was so angry with Michael. But he can’t be like that. He can’t do what Michael did to anyone else. 

Chris swings his backpack off of his shoulders and dumps out his books onto his bed. He grabs at things, tshirts, jeans, toothbrush and toothpaste, towels. He has a sleeping bag that he can attach to the top of his backpack. 

His room looks like a whirlwind hit it, but he can’t stop to worry about it. He can’t think about what his momma will think when she sees it. She’s better off without him. He can’t say no to Jeff, so he can’t stay. 

Pausing for a moment, he thinks over what else he should bring. He doesn’t have very much money, and he doesn’t know what he can do to get more. 

He’s sniffling before he even realizes it, crying. The pain and fear and confusion all mixed up so that he doesn’t even know what he’s crying about. All he knows is that he can’t stop, that he’ll never be a man that his father can be proud of. He’s pathetic. 

Done with everything, Christian pulls his backpack over his shoulder again. He thinks for a moment about leaving a note, but he has no idea what he would say, has no idea how to explain. All he really wants is to tell his momma he’s not mad at her. 

Instead he rushes back out the door, without taking a last look around, without thinking any more. He has to leave. It’s the only answer.***

His mind comes back to the present when he hears the sound of a door opening. He freezes with a book in his hand, listening to the sound of footsteps getting closer to his bedroom door. Presumably it’s his momma he hears, padding across the carpeted living room into the linoleum tiled kitchen. 

He debates for a while what to do. He knows he should probably go out there, face the music and all that, but he can’t seem to put down the book that he hasn’t even opened. He doesn’t even know how long he sits there, stuck by an invisible fear when a knock on his door has him jumping half out of his skin. 

“Chris,” his momma’s voice calls out. “Are you up, honey?”

His heart is still pounding as he scrambles to his feet like he’d been doing something more illicit than staring at a book cover. He hates feeling constantly off guard here. This is too important. 

Taking a second to breathe, he rushes forward at the door, opening it and trying to meet her blue eyes for a moment. 

“Morning,” she says with a slight smile, reaching out a hand to his shoulder. But he’s still so full of adrenaline he can’t help jerking away from her gentle touch. 

He doesn’t look up then, doesn’t need to see the expression on her face now, and he curses himself silently. He just can’t seem to get used to being touched, can’t control that initial surge of fear. He can’t get used to suddenly being touched by her again.  
“I thought I’d make pancakes for breakfast,” she says. 

It’s a statement but she says it like a question, like she wants his approval and he doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Sounds great,” his voice comes out like a low rasp. “I’ll uh…I’ll just go brush my teeth.” 

He ducks back inside his room quickly, grabbing a clean pair of underwear that he hopes will still fit and a random tshirt from the drawers and the jeans that Steve loaned him yesterday. When he comes back to the door, she’s gone to the kitchen, humming to herself as she begins to cook. 

He takes the opportunity to take another shower. He wants to drag things out in the bathroom, wants to scrub himself forever like he’ll ever be clean. But he’s more concerned about not drawing attention to himself, to his habits. He hurries, trying not to think about being naked in this house again, thinking about it would make him take too long. He’s putting his pajamas back on the bed in his room when he sees Jenny walk into the bathroom. 

Sitting down cautiously at the table, he thinks his mom seems so proud of herself. Christian can remember when he was very young, when Dad was still alive and she’d make them all breakfast, everyone happy and shoveling food in their mouths. Now his hand clenches around his fork, unsure if he can do this, if he can live up to her expectations. 

He cuts his pancake up into pieces and shoves them around. He feels nauseous enough without putting the food into his mouth, into his churning stomach. It’s too much and he just can’t handle pretending. He doesn’t even think he can drink the milk his momma brings him. 

Jenny sits down next to him with a quiet, “Morning”, snatching pancakes off the serving plate and eating them quickly. Christian can’t tell if she’s just hungry because their momma doesn’t normally make them pancakes or whether she wants to get away from the table. Probably both. Christian wants to flee himself as his momma sets her cup of coffee on the table and sits down with them. 

But his momma doesn’t seem in any hurry to eat the pancakes she puts on her plate either. “Did y’all sleep well?” she asks instead. 

Jenny glances over to him, a subtle offer that he answer first. It irks him, just another thing that’s different, another example of how she’s treating him differently. Before she would have just answered the question first herself, not waited for him like he needed the extra attention. 

“Fine,” he says simply though he knows that they both want to hear more, want to hear that he’s thankful to be off the streets, that it’s great to be home again. And it is, he missed them both, but the reality of being with them again is different than what he missed. 

It must be enough of an answer though, as Jenny takes her turn to speak. “Yeah, fine. I need to go by my apartment a little later to pick up some stuff. I didn’t bring everything to stay a week.”

Christian stabs a piece of pancake again. She’s only here because of him. She’d rather be back to her old life, the one where Christian didn’t exist anymore. 

“Great,” their momma responds, her tone odd. “Chris can see your place. Oh, and while we’re out, we can stop by the Walmart to get him some new pants.”

They’re talking about him like he’s not even there. “Mom,” Jenny continues, and Christian can hear that she’s irritated by the tone of her voice. “I need to talk to my boyfriend. Why don’t you just take him to get clothes while I go get stuff from my apartment. He can see it another time.”

Glancing up, Christian can see by the tightness of his mother’s features that she’s not happy either, but she doesn’t want to say so, not in front of him. He feels like the giant elephant in the room. 

“Fine, but I want you back here quickly,” their momma finally says. Then her attention turns back to Christian. “Maybe while we’re out we can go by the school. I know you’ve been out for a while, but you could take summer classes.”

For a while she says, like he went to camp or skipped a day or something. He’s never going to graduate, and he’ll never be anything without at least making it through high school.

His anger is extinguished by a hard knocking at the door. Even Jeff doesn’t knock like that…unless he’s really angry. Horrified blue eyes watch his mother get up from the table. He feels like he can’t breathe, like his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

He finches when his momma yanks the door open, obviously annoyed by the pounding. But it’s not Jeff out there he sees. It’s a police officer in the blue uniform holding his notepad. Christian’s heartbeat doesn’t slow. 

He doesn’t realize he’s standing until his momma calls him over. He knew he’d get in trouble if he told on Jeff, he worries, panicked. The man’s too respected in this town. 

“Is this about me running away?” Christian blurts out breathlessly. His momma’s hand on his shoulder surprises him, but she pulls him close despite his flinch. 

“No, sweetheart,” she says, but Christian’s looking at the policeman. He’s young, tall and big, and smiling at them as if to look nonthreatening. 

“No, I would like to ask you a few questions,” he says vaguely. “You don’t even have to go to the police station.”

“Questions about what?” Christian insists.

“About statements you made in Los Angeles. Is there another room where I can speak to your son, ma’am?” the man asks, switching his focus back to Christian’s momma.

“Only the bedroom,” she answers hesitantly. 

He shakes his head minutely before he looks to Christian. The man seems so formal and polite that Christian can’t read the man’s emotions. “Will you step outside with me? I just have a couple of questions to verify the report. We can sit in my car for privacy.”

Christian chokes on his breath as he looks back at his momma, but she doesn’t nod or give him any sign what to do. Finally he turns back to the police officer and nods, following the man sedately outside. He’s surprised when the officer opens the passenger door of the cruiser for him. 

But Christian doesn’t let the man close the door before he’s asking questions. “What is this about?”

The officer nods but then he says, “Can you verify your name and address for me first?”

Christian does, watching the man look at his notepad and nod along with his words. Then he has to tell the officer about parents, about his mom being a single parent and that his father is dead. 

Finally the officer gets to the point when he asks, “Do you remember what you said in the hospital in LA to your mother? About why you ran away?”

“About Jeff…Coach Morgan?” Christian asks, his mind spinning as he thinks about all the things that happened in that hospital. He was so upset, he can barely remember all that happened. 

“What about Mr. Morgan?” the officer prompts. 

“That I…I slept with him,” Christian answers softly, not knowing what else to say, not knowing whether it would be safer to lie or tell the truth. This is the fucking police! Will he get in more trouble if he tries to lie?

“You had sex with Mr. Morgan?” the officer verifies tonelessly. He looks down at his notepad again. “As a…nine year old?” the office asks almost incredulously.

“Yes,” Christian reiterates frustrated and not knowing what the officer wants him to say. If he’s in trouble anyway, his momma will be upset and confused if he takes it back. 

“Are you certain, son? That’s the truth?” the officer says with an air of finality. 

There’s a block of ice in Christian’s chest as he nods. At this point, Christian thinks he would say whatever the officer wanted him to, just to get out of this car. 

But the next words are dismissive. “We can go back inside to your mother, but we will need to speak to you further at another time,” the officer says already turning away to open the door. 

Christian is still confused as they go back inside and he can see his mom is too as she rushes forward to him. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing or if he fucked up again. When she puts her arm around him, he goes willingly, clinging to her in fear that he might be taken away. Isn’t that what happens to kids that talk about this kinda thing? Whether he takes it back or not? He just got dragged back and now he’s terrified that he’ll be taken away. 

“Ma’am,” the officer starts. “We will need to further investigate Mr. Morgan’s relationship with your son. Is it possible that you can bring your son to be interviewed today?”

“Yes,” she says immediately, like she would agree to anything to get this to go away. 

“Would you and your son and daughter be available at 10:30 today, ma’am? It’ll be easier to speak to the three of you all at the same time,” the man continues. “It wouldn’t be at the police station. Do you know the Mary Abbott House? 

“No, I…what is that?” Christian’s momma ask, confusion and irritation in her voice. 

“It’s a Child Advocacy Center, a place investigators can talk to minors about difficult things. We’ll explain more there,” he says as if not wanting to say too much.

“There’s going to be a police investigation?” his momma questions tightly. “Will Chris have to testify?”

“Ma’am,” he says politely, trying to head off her panicked response. “They’ll explain things further there. First they have to interview your son. Any allegation of sexual activity with a child has to be investigated, but we’d like your cooperation.” 

“Ok,” she snaps, but then her voice softens again. “We’ll be there at 10:30.”

The man looks relieved at her agreement, and takes a step back from their front door. “Y’all have a nice day,” he says in farewell.  
As his momma closes the door, Christian can feel her other hand rubbing his back a little between his shoulder blades. 

“You’re not in trouble,” she reiterates tightly as she starts to lead him back towards the table, back towards the pancakes that she made for him. “Not for running away or what you said about Jeff or anything you did, ok? They want to keep you safe.”

She brushes her fingers through his hair as he sits back in his chair, a move he’s starting to recognize as her being upset, worried, worried about him. He doesn’t want her to be worried or upset, not because of him. He wishes he had just kept his damn mouth shut, but at the same time, he didn’t want her thinking it was something she did that made him run away. What lie could he have told that would have made this all better?

But now the police are showing up at his house. They’ll investigate or whatever, but who would believe him over Coach Morgan? Jeff will just say it’s his fault. It is his fault, all of it.

“Try to eat a little more,” his momma’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Jennifer, I need you to come too. You can pick up your things afterward.”

Jenny’s face looks pinched at their momma’s demand. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to go, who would? She blames him. It’s all his fault that she has to talk to the police at all. 

He feels sick, bile on his tongue again. Any hope he had of simply ignoring his confession disappearing like mist in the sunshine. He tries to push his food around his plate for a little while longer, tries to keep it together even as tears start to prick at the edges of his eyes. But all of a sudden, his stomach heaves. 

Nothing comes up, but he’s up out of his seat quickly.

“I’ll just get a shower,” he says, forgetting that he already had one.

“Hurry,” Jenny says. “I have to get a shower too.”

Her voice is drowned out as he closes the door and flips on the shower before kneeling in front of the toilet. But nothing comes despite the continued raging of his stomach. After a moment, he’s actively trying to throw up, wishing to just get it over with, hoping it’ll make him feel better. But instead he starts crying, sinking back to sit on his feet as he kneels. 

Angrily, he wipes at his face, the heat and humidity of the shower surrounding him. He doesn’t have time for his pathetic tears. The fucking police are waiting to question him, to accuse him and his family. How could this be happening? How could he have fucked up this much?

He tells himself to hurry up. There’s no point in dallying because there’s no escape from his epic fuck-up. Adjusting the temperature, he feels he has no choice to but to at least get his hair wet so he strips quickly. But he only gives himself a cursory wash before he’s stepping out. When he’s through, he doesn’t have much choice but to put back on the clothes he was wearing. He wonders if his mom will notice how weird it is.

There’s nothing else to do after he’s dressed though. He slinks back to his room, trying not to draw the attention of the two women still at the table. Once there he crawls back into the center of his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. 

He knows he should go out there. He should offer to help do the dishes since his momma made the food. He should spend whatever time he has left with her. But he doesn’t move from his curled up position. The tears have stopped, washed away in the water of the shower, so he sits dry eyed and unseeing. The wait seems both interminably long and entirely too short.

Eventually though, his momma knocks gently at his door, her voice trying to be casual. “You about ready? We need to go,” she calls. 

He can hear the tension in it though. Stiffly, he nods despite that she can’t see him and manages to uncurl his limbs. Standing makes him feel lightheaded, but he staggers forward anyway. The last thing he wants right now is to make his momma pissed at him for making them late.

He steps out of his room to see Jenny coming out of her room and his momma is already collecting her purse and a jacket. Silently, he joins her at the door with Jenny following behind. 

As they head outside, she says, “Chris, why don’t you sit up front with me this time.”

This time they take his momma’s station wagon. And the drive is mostly silent. There are dozens of questions running through Christian’s mind but he’s too scared to ask any of them. 

He’s confused when they head into a nice neighborhood that he’s never seen before, but he’s really confused when his momma pulls the car into the parking lot of a two story beautiful light blue home. 

“Is this the place?” Jenny asks from the backseat. Apparently she’s confused too. 

Their momma is clearly uncomfortable but she answers the question. “That’s what the sign says.” It’s mean to be a lighthearted comment but it doesn’t seem to lighten the mood at all as they all get cautiously out of the car. 

They’ve barely made it up the front steps, onto the wraparound porch when a woman is opening the door and inviting them in. 

“Hi, my name is Rachel. I’m a volunteer advocate here at the Mary Abbott House,” she introduces herself. She’s short, bleach blonde and cheerful. 

It takes a second for his momma to respond, but then she extends her hand to the young woman. “Pam Kane. And these are Chris and Jennifer,” her hand is back on Christian’s back as she introduces her two children. 

“Nice to meet y’all,” Rachel responds and her smile looks genuine despite what they’re here for. “Welcome, and come in. I’ll show you around a little.”

The blonde turns to lead the way further inside. Christian’s momma extends her arm around Christian’s shoulders again and then looks at Jennifer who falls in line behind them. 

“This is the front desk,” Rachel begins, stopping at a large desk with a computer on it. But she moves quickly past the desk through another doorway into a corridor where there are rooms on each side. 

Rachel stops at the first room and says, “This is a playroom for the younger children. And these are other waiting rooms and counseling rooms.” She gestures to the other rooms down the hallway, but doesn’t lead them down to look in each of them. 

The rooms look like they’re inside a nice house, or more like a playhouse. Every room has tvs, toys, stuffed animals, and posters on the walls. Then Christian realizes it’s completely empty. They’re the only people he can see or hear. 

“There’s nobody here?” Christian questions uneasily. Not that he wants anyone here to see him, to see him and tell the rest of the town. 

Rachel turns around with a smile to answer him. “We made sure that there would be privacy for your visit today. The only people here are the investigative team that I’ll introduce y’all to upstairs.”

The idea of this whole place being reserved just for him has his heart jumping into his throat. It seems much more significant now. Rachel waits for him to ask any more questions, but he only ducks his head against her attention, leaning just a bit further into his momma’s side. 

“Ok, let’s go upstairs,” Rachel continues, moving past the room to a staircase. “The Mary Abbott House strives to make everything comfortable for you and your family during your visit here. Feel free to ask for anything you need.”

Once they’re at the top of the stairs they are again in a wide hallway with rooms on either side. “These are waiting rooms, and these two rooms are the interview rooms,” Rachel explains. 

She stops at those rooms, letting them all look inside and he can immediately see the differences. In the interview rooms, there aren’t tvs or tons of toys or shelves of games. Really nothing to look at and avoid the questions. 

“Let me introduce you to the investigative team,” Rachel continues, drawing all of their attention back outside the interview room.  
She leads them into a nearby waiting room that’s filled with several people sitting in there. But they all stand up as Christian and his family enter. Christian freezes in the doorway, horrified that these people are here just to speak to him. 

“This is Pam, Jennifer, and Chris,” she says to the waiting crowd. Then she turns back to Christian and his family. “Please have a seat,” she tells them kindly. 

Christian’s momma has to push him to get him to move inside the room. His heart is pounding as the people in the room continue to stare at them, at him. They stare and they know. He takes a seat on the couch his momma pushes him down on. All three of them sit in a row. 

Then Rachel continues. “They’re each going to introduce themselves and explain a little of what their role is on the investigative team.” Then she takes a seat herself. 

An older man with white hair and wearing a suit is the first to speak up and introduce myself. “Hi. My name’s Sam Anderson and I’m the lead detective. It’s my job to gather all the facts and evidence of the case.”

The man next to the detective goes next, also an older man with dark combed back hair and a moustache, wearing a really nice suit. “I’m Tom Selleck,” he starts in a smooth, no nonsense voice. “I’m the prosecutor from the County Attorney’s office. As leader of the investigative team, I’ll make a decision about prosecuting after all the facts have been gathered.”

They don’t stop to answer questions, simply keep moving down the line. The woman who goes next is a strikingly beautiful brunette who has a formal demeanor. “Hi, I’m Stephanie, your court advocate. I will help all of you navigate the criminal justice system.”

“Hi, I’m Juliet,” the next woman starts. She’s striking too in an almost unsettling way, very dark hair but light-colored skin and eyes. “I’m a crisis center advocate from Crossroads Youth and Family services, and I’m here to support your family through this difficult period.”

The shorter, fragile-looking blonde woman beside her jumps in immediately. “I’m also from Crossroads. My name is Julie and I’m an advocate for Chris as an adolescent.” Her next words are spoken directly to him. “I’m here whenever you need to talk to someone and to be here with you at all interviews and examinations that you would like support at.” 

The next woman to speak has a very warm demeanor and a British accent. “I’m Gina. Nice to meet you,” she says. She has shorter brown hair and dark gentle eyes. “I’m a forensic interviewer here at the Mary Abbott House. This facility is here to make sure all the different investigators share information about the case and to make sure that there are no more interviews than necessary.”

“Do you have any questions?” Gina asks, taking over. 

Overwhelmed, Chris and his family stay quiet. Gina continues as if that’s a common response, “Chris, we’re going to go into the interview room and talk for a little while. Your mom is going to stay out here and talk with some other members of the team.”

Christian stares at her dumbly for a moment, his breath seemingly stuck in his chest. He knew why they were here, but the idea of having to talk about it, having to talk about what he did all those years in front of all these people judging him. He knows what they’re going to think.

“Momma?” he asks looking up at her at the same time as she tries to speak as well. 

“I can’t…stay with him?” his momma asks hesitantly. 

It’s Rachel who answers her. “No. It’ll be easier for Chris to disclose if he’s not worrying about your reaction, and,” her voice drops, as if she only wants Pam to hear. “You don’t need to hear everything.”

Christian’s momma nods then, defeated as if she knew what the answer would be the whole time. But she takes a minute to squeeze Christian’s shoulder and say, “Just tell the truth, sweetheart. No matter what it is.”

Christian’s head spins as he stands up hesitantly, keeping his eyes on his mom as he moves away. She’s looking down at something Rachel’s showing her, something to sign. He glances at Jenny who for once is looking back at him. He can’t guess what she’s thinking though, not before he has to follow Gina into the room. 

“Please have a seat,” Gina says, and then she takes the seat on the other side of the small round table from him. “My name is Gina Bellman. Can you tell me your full name and age?” she asks him.

“Christian Michael Kane,” he stutters out, his heart beating so fast he feels like he might pass out from nervousness. “I’m 17, ma’am.” Christian answers truthfully, his momma’s words echoing in his head. He’s guilty to think that he might have considered lying. It’s what they want to hear right? He’d still be in trouble but they’d be saved the time. 

“Please call me Gina,” she says with that same wide smile. “What would you like to be called?” she asks next. 

It takes him a second to realize what she means and then he can’t help ducking his face away from her thoughtfulness. 

“Christian,” he responds truthfully. 

“Ok, Christian,” she says with a broader smile. “I just want to tell you about this room. That mirror on the wall is actually a window. The detective and prosecutor you met are behind it watching.”

Christian nods unhappily, unconsciously chewing on his thumb in nervousness. He’s seen enough television to have guessed that the mirror was one-way, and he’s grudgingly grateful that she actually admitted it. This place may be made for little kids, but he’s seventeen. 

“There is also a camera that is recording us,” she continues. 

His eyes jerk up to look at her at that statement. “Recorded? But who will watch it?”

“It’s going to be evidence. That means that the police officers and attorneys assigned to your case will have access. It also means that if the case goes to trial it will be part of the trial,” she says still being honest.

He doesn’t like it, doesn’t want anyone else to know about what he did, but he really has no choice. He nods and puts his hands in his lap. 

“Your mother told you to tell the truth.” Gina pauses there until he nods his affirmation. “What is it to tell the truth?”

He squints at her, confused about what she’s getting at. “The truth is what really happened, instead of saying things that didn’t really happen.”

“Right,” she says, seeming pleased with his response. “So in this interview, if I ask you a question that you don’t know the answer to or don’t remember the answer to, you can say that you don’t know the answer as long as that’s the truth. Don’t guess if you don’t know the answer or don’t understand the question.”

Her pause there is significant so he nods again, squirming in his seat. But then she asks him flat out, “Are you going to tell the truth in this interview?”

“Yes, ma’am” he says, looking into her eyes earnestly, wishing for her to believe him. Why would he lie about this? It’s not like he wants people to know he’s a worthless slut. 

Gina smiles again, breaking the previous seriousness. “You have two sisters,” she says casually.

“No, ma’am,” he corrects, quickly. “Only one sister.”

“Tell me about her,” she says. 

“Umm, Jenny’s older. She’s in college here. She used to do dance, ballet and stuff.”

“Did she take a math class last semester?” she asks. 

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Christian answers confused as he thinks back to what Jenny said in the car leaving the airport. He wasn’t really listening that closely. 

“Great. Christian, do you know why we’re talking today?” She asks, her expression serious again. 

“Yes,” he says simply, his arms shooting up from his lap to cross over his chest. 

“Tell me why you think we’re here today?” she prompts. 

“Because of what I said about Mr. Morgan,” he obfuscates looking down at the table top. 

“Tell me about what happened. I need you to tell me everything because I wasn’t there and don’t know what happened,” she tries again, her voice earnest now. 

“Mr. Morgan and I had sex,” Christian answers simply, quietly. 

“You had sex with the wrestling coach, Mr. Morgan,” she reiterates, pausing to allow him the opportunity to object. “Did this happen once or more than once?”

“More than once,” he says, his eyes flickering towards the camera. His arms tighten around his chest, holding him together. 

“Tell me about the last time that you and Mr. Morgan had sex,” she prompts again. 

“Uhhh,” he hesitates with a frown, glancing up at her and then back down. The idea of talking about the actual sex with this woman makes a lump stick in his throat. He doesn’t know if he can force the words out. So he shakes his head. 

“What day and month did it last happen?” she prompts. “Tell me everything that you and he were doing and where you were.”

“Oh, uhh,” he starts, focusing on the specific questions she asked and trying not to think about the sex. “It was a Saturday at the end of the school year in May. Mr. Morgan picked me up at my house and we went to the park to throw a baseball around. Then we went back to Mr. Morgan’s house to eat dinner.”

“You were at Mr. Morgan’s house. Then what happened?” she asks. 

“We picked up a pizza and took it back to Jeff’s house, I mean, Mr. Morgan,” he corrects himself embarrassed. “We sat on the couch and watched a movie while we ate.”

“What movie did you watch?” she prompts again, searching for details that he thinks couldn’t possibly be important. 

“The first Jason Bourne movie,” Christian answers. “I forgot what it’s actually called…” he trails off when he can’t remember. He’s so stupid, he thinks. Jesus, she’s gonna be pissed that he’s not cooperating. 

“What kind of pizza did you eat?” she prompts, letting the name of the movie go without an answer. 

“Italian sausage, that’s Jeff’s favorite,” Christian says without thinking, then bites his lip hard as he realizes how it sounded, how it sounded like he liked Jeff, how all of it was his own fault. 

“Then what happened?” she continues. 

“He was eating his pizza in the leather chair, but then he came and sat next to me on the couch,” Christian’s breath starts to come faster, shorter as his memories get closer to the sex, the happy afternoon turned shameful and painful. Christian’s hand goes to the  
back of his neck as he remembers, “He squeezed the back of my neck with his hand and told me to go into the bedroom.” His hand falls and he crosses his arms again.

She waits a moment, but when it’s clear that he’s not going to continue, she asks, “Then what happened after you went into the bedroom?”

Flushing with shame, Christian answers, “I took my clothes off.” 

God, he thinks. He sounds like such a whore, getting ready for Jeff to fuck, seducing him with his nudity.

“Did he tell you to do that?” she asks immediately. 

“No,” he chokes out shamefully. He tries to explain the situation, tries to make her see, “He had told me before, but he didn’t need to anymore. I knew what he wanted me to do.”

She doesn’t comment on that but continues with her questions. “What clothes were you wearing?”

Christian has to think for a second, his mind spinning because he doesn’t want to keep the woman waiting. “Jeans and a blue tshirt, my grey tennis shoes.”

She nods as if to be encouraging, and says, “And what was he wearing?”

It is easier for Christian to remember that. “Khaki shorts, and a blue polo and tennis shoes.”

“Tell me what happened then,” she instructs. 

Christian shifts on his seat again, feeling naked and vulnerable like he did then. “He came in the room and took off his clothes. He lay down on the bed and wanted me to…put my mouth on him.”

“Where on him did he want you to put your mouth?” she asks, wanting specifics on things he doesn’t want to talk about ever. 

Almost sighing in frustration, Christian answers bluntly in a harsher voice, “On his penis. It was..you know, hard.”

“Did he tell you to do this?” she said again, and to Christian it sounds like a reproach.

His voice is still hard as he quickly says, “He didn’t have to anymore. He said ‘c’mon kid’ and then he kinda grabbed the back of my neck,” Christian automatically half-way demonstrates where Jeff’s hand was on his neck. “He pulled me towards his…penis.”

“And then what happened?” she continues in that infuriatingly calm voice. 

“He pulled me off, told me to lie down on my stomach on the bed,” the anger leaks out of Christian’s voice in a hurry. He continues in a quieter, slower voice. “He got out a tube of lube and put some on his fingers. Then he put his fingers, uh…inside my butt, and then he put his penis inside,” Christian finishes quickly.

She nods again. “Do you know what brand of lube it was?”

Christian shakes his head in frustration, but he still answers. “KY.”

“Did he use a condom?” she asks.

“No,” he answers shaking his head. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it, but now he knows how stupid that was. Now he knows specifically, he thinks ruefully. 

“And then what happened?” she prompts. 

“We had sex,” he says simply, hoping that she’ll leave it at that. 

But she doesn’t leave it alone. “Did he touch you?”

His anger comes back, and he speaks faster again. Why does she need to know all this? Isn’t it enough to know that they had sex? “Yeah,” he says. “Jeff pulled me up kinda on my knees and stroked my penis some…” Christian pauses to wipe his face, feeling  
like he’s sweating even though he feels cold. “And, uh, after he was, uhhh, done, you know, he umm, masturbated me til I came.”

“Ok,” she says soothingly, seeing that he’s getting upset. “And then what happened?”

Christian’s hand moves from his forehead to his hair. He’s bending over the table as if he can hide. “He umm, he put his face in my hair and stroked my back a while, then he took a shower. And then he told me to take a shower so I could get dressed and go home.”  
He feels like a lump is growing in the back of his throat. 

“How did you get home?” she continues. 

“He drove me home,” he continues, swallowing hard as they move onto more neutral subjects. Hopefully that’s it. 

“Was there anyone at home when you got there?” she asks. 

He drops his arm and looks up at the woman again. He doesn’t know if she’s also criticizing his momma. “Nobody. My momma was at work most Saturday nights, and Jenny was at a friend’s house that night.”

“Alright,” she says, like it’s over. But then she leans over to grab what he can see is a piece of white paper and a pencil. “Can you draw me a picture? Can you draw Mr. Morgan’s living room and bedroom for me?” 

He picks up the pencil and obediently does as she asks. At this point, he’d do whatever she wants to get out of this room. Art was never something he excelled at actually doing himself so he takes the liberty of labeling his squares and rectangles. 

She looks over them for a moment when he pushes them back across the table. “This is great. Thank you, Christian,” she says sincerely. But he no longer cares about pleasing her.

“I’d like to ask you a few more questions, about the first time that you and Mr. Morgan had sexual contact. Can you tell me everything you remember about that time?” 

“The first time that we had sex?” Christian repeats, upset at the idea of having to discuss the sex again. 

“What do you mean by sex?” she queries back. 

Christian frowns, confused and looks down at the table, embarrassed. “Like when he put his, you know, penis, ummmm, inside me.”

“Did you do things together other than have sex that made you uncomfortable?” she delves further. 

“Yeah, well, you know,” Christian starts, unsure how to explain what he means. “At first, he, uhhhh, he would just touch my penis. And then sometimes he wanted me to touch his…penis, with my hands or umm, with my mouth, and he would put just his fingers inside my  
uhh, butthole.”

“Tell me about the first time that Mr. Morgan underneath your shorts. When did that first happen?” She explains her previous question. 

Christian nods absently and says, “It was like a month after I started wrestling.”

“And when was that?” she asks. 

Christian thinks back, “Ummm, it was eight years ago.”

But she just continues asking. “So how old were you? And what grade were you in?”

“I was uhhh…nine, in the fourth grade,” Christian remembers. “I was watching the middle school wrestling practice and he offered to help me be on the team, by like taking me home after practice when my momma couldn’t pick me up that late.”

“He helped you and your mom.” She repeats. 

“Yeah,” Christian agrees and then elaborates. “He took me home after practice and then he started to sometimes feed me dinner after Varsity practice, and he said he helped my mom with her job and getting my sister a scholarship.”

“You spent a lot of time alone with him,” she continues.

“Yeah,” he says shrugging. He spent more time with Jeff than really anyone else back then. 

“Tell me about the first time that he touched you underneath your shorts?” she asks, going back to that question.

Cringing, and sitting back from the table with crossed arms, he answers, “He took Michael and me to his house to have dinner after a practice my momma couldn’t come pick me up immediately.”

“What is Michael’s last name?” she asks, honing in on the mention of someone else. 

Christian hates to bring the other boy into this conversation, particularly after what he did to Michael the day that he left Norman. But he can’t refuse. “Michael Weatherly. He was a sophomore in high school then and was the best wrestler on the Varsity team. He spent a lot of time with Jeff too.”

She nods, knowingly. He can tell that she knows that Jeff had sex with Michael too. “What did you have for dinner?”

Christian wants to groan at the random questions. “We had fast food, from Wendy’s, and watched Die Hard.”

“And then what happened?” she prompts.

“Michael and I were sitting on the couch and Jeff came over to sit on the coffee table in front of us when we were finished eating,” Christian swallows, angry and hurt and confused all over again. “Michael unzipped Jeff’s shorts, he was wearing khaki shorts and a tshirt. And Michael started to…stroke Jeff’s penis, and then Jeff pulled down my basketball shorts and briefs and touched my, ummm, penis.”

“Did Michael touch you?” she asks. 

“Just my hand,” Christian tries to make it clear. As angry as he is at Michael, he doesn’t want her to think that Michael had sex with him. “He told me to relax but I couldn’t. But he was never there when Jeff touched me after that first time.”

“Did anyone else ever touch you under your shorts?” she asks.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“Did you ever see Mr. Morgan touch any other child?” she asks. 

“No,” Christian says quickly before ducking his head, ashamed. “The day that I left Jeff said he wanted to help another kid on the middle school wrestling team.” He knows he should have done something, kept Jeff from another kid. He couldn’t stop Jeff from doing what he did, but he should have done something instead of just running away. 

“What do you mean by the day you left?” she asks, like she hasn’t been told where he came from.

“The day I left home and started to hitchhike to LA,” he explains.

“You ran away from your home,” she reiterates.

“Yes,” he says with a sigh. His irritation is starting to show despite his efforts. 

“Did Jeff say how he wanted to help the other kid or who the kid was?” she asks. 

“He didn’t have to,” Christian says ruefully. “He wanted me to help him touch that kid just like Michael helped him touch me. But he didn’t say who the kid was.”

“Does anyone know what happened between you and Mr. Morgan?” she changes direction.

Christian shakes his head no. 

“Who was the first person besides you and Jeff and Michael to know about the sex?” she asks

“I told my mom when I was in the hospital in LA. She wanted to know why I, ummm, ran away, you know, and I didn’t know what else to say,” he explains himself stupidly. He really thinks he should have kept his mouth shut now. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asks seriously. “Do you have any questions about what we’ve talked about today?”

“No,” Christian says shrugging. He didn’t fucking want to tell her what he did.

She straightens like this might be the end of the interview. “You’ve told me a lot of things today, and I want to thank you for talking with me today.”

Christian just ducks his head at that, at the strangeness of being thanked for admitting that he’s a fuck-up. 

But she’s not quite done talking yet. “We’ll talk with your mother about whether a medical exam is needed. After two years, there probably is little evidence but it may…”

She trails off as she sees Christian shaking his head. “No, I don’t….I don’t need an exam. I was in the hospital in LA just a day ago.”

“Still, they may not have conducted a sexual exam,” she continues logically. 

“They did,” Christian insists. “I…I’ve had sex, since Jeff. So…”

Christian trails off, feeling more like a slut than he ever has. She’ll know now. If she didn’t blame him before, she does now. 

“It’s ok,” she soothes. “Let’s go talk to the rest of the team and they’ll explain where the investigation will go from here.”

He’s practically shaking as he stands and almost falls over, but he moves toward the door quickly, wanting to get out of this room.  
He’s just really glad that his mom wasn’t listening to this conversation. She doesn’t need to know anything more than what he already  
stupidly said. 

Gina leads him out of the interview room, though she conspicuously does not touch him. She gestures for him to take a seat back in the nearby waiting room. Sitting obediently, Gina is just offering him some magazines and a hand held game device to occupy himself with when they both hear his momma’s voice coming from the hallway. 

“I am not hysterical!” she cries, the volume of her voice belying her words. 

“Ma’am, you have to think of how your behavior will look if this goes to a jury…” an older man’s voice replies calmly. 

Christian’s surprised when his momma actually interrupts the man. “You tell me I have to protect him, now, when it’s too late, but then you say I’m being too emotional! He’s my son. I had the right to hit that bastard,” she insists. 

“I know you’re angry,” a woman’s voice interjects. “But you have to think of how your behavior affects both your children…”

The woman’s voice trails off as they all come into Christian’s view. It’s the detective and the dark haired woman with blue eyes. He only has a chance to glance at them as his momma rushes over to him. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, concerned and leaning down to him. 

Christian shrinks back from her intense attention. He doesn’t want to talk with her about the interview at all. “Fine,” he says simply. 

“Why don’t you take a seat,” a man says. 

Christian looks up to see that it was the prosecutor who spoke, the dark haired mustached man. He looks more severe than the older detective next to him. 

Christian watches as his momma actually glares at the prosecutor. It’s not an expression he’s seen very often since his father’s death, there was always too much pain and sadness drowning the anger. But now she looks pissed even as she does sit down next to Christian. 

But she’s not done speaking yet. “I know I have obviously made some mistakes, but…after my husband passed away, Chris was withdrawn, stayed home all the time. Mr. Morgan changed all that. I thought it was good for Chris, to go out, to have a role model. Chris was great at wrestling, and I was so grateful for him to have the opportunity despite that I couldn’t get enough money and didn’t have enough time.” She trails off and turns to look at her son who’s shrinking back into his seat in shame at putting that sound of defeat in her voice. 

“I’m so sorry. I was so stupid to just trust him,” his momma apologizes directly to him, her anger subsumed by sadness and regret again as she looks in his eyes. She seems to be angry at herself. “I practically made you go with him, but I thought…I thought it was for the best.” Her voice breaks with emotion that makes Christian feel lower than dirt. 

“Ma’am,” the prosecutor breaks in again, now that things seem to have settled down. 

Christian looks up to see all the investigators are now sitting in the chairs around them looking serious. But it’s the pale dark haired woman who begins to speak, seeming pained as she looks over at the two of them. 

“It’s not your fault,” she says intently. “Just as it’s not Christian’s fault that this has happened. Mr. Morgan is respected and obviously very skilled at grooming young victims and their parents. And it’s not fair to ask Christian to forgive you.” 

Christian opens his mouth to defend his momma. He does forgive her. Nothing was her fault anyway, it was all him. She had no idea, that’s clear from her reactions since he confessed. But he feels too embarrassed to speak up. He feels ashamed because sometimes he does blame her. Even though, he’s more guilty than she is. He’s sure there’s another boy in this town that he could have saved, he could have done something to protect. 

The prosecutor is hurried though, and changes the subject once they’re all settled. “I just want to discuss with you how we’re going to proceed. There are a lot of other people that we will need to interview before we can make any determination on whether to prosecute. We’ll keep you informed and feel free to contact Stephanie if you have questions.”

Stephanie leans out of her chair to hand his momma a card. “We talked earlier Mrs. Kane about the court process, and we’ll talk again if it becomes necessary.”

The shorter blonde leans forward then as soon as his momma is putting the card into her purse. Christian tries to remember her name, but he can’t come up with it. 

“Christian, the team is going to talk with your mother a little longer, but I wanted to talk to you in private. Is that ok?” she asks like anything about this is up to him. 

He shrugs again, feigning indifference when all he really wants to do is get the hell out of this place. 

She takes his shrug as agreement and moves to a closer chair as the rest of the people in the room stand up and leave. Christian’s momma gives him a last look but the dark haired, pale skinned woman is already speaking to her, trying to get her attention.  
Christian looks back to the blonde woman beside him. 

“I’d like to reintroduce myself and clarify what I do. I’m Julie,” she pauses there, smiling as if she knows that he forgot her name. “I’m your advocate. Juliet who is also an advocate from Crossroads is here to help your whole family, to support you all to work together. But I’m here to support you as you go through this difficult process. You can say anything to me, anything that’s worrying you or upsetting you, and I can’t tell anyone, not your mom, not the other investigators, and not the court. The only time I can tell anyone what you tell me is if you said that you intended to hurt yourself or someone else. Do you understand?”

He nods. He gets it. It’s not like he’s never heard of therapists before and confidentiality. But advocates are for women, for rape victims. He feels completely pathetic to be here like this and he certainly doesn’t have anything to tell her. There’s nothing to tell but that he fucked up and that she probably already knows. But then again, there are things that he’d like to know. 

“Who all are y’all gonna interview?” he asks, cautiously. 

“They’ll want to interview all of the children that Mr. Morgan has coached in wrestling. And anyone that you might have mentioned knowing about the abuse,” she answers vaguely.

Christian knows that they’ll want to interview Michael. “But what about if Jeff is…you know, with another kid now?” he asks.  
Christian keeps his face down, looking at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t want to show his face now, he’s too ashamed. Back then he hadn’t thought of telling, hadn’t imagined that anyone would believe it, had assumed that everyone would blame him, punish him, humiliate him. And he couldn’t attack Jeff like he did Michael. But what if he could have kept the younger kids away from Jeff? What if he could have scared the younger kids off? Isn’t there something he could do now, to save this kid from the police’s attention?

Julie moves closer on the couch and leans down, speaking slow and clear. “You couldn’t have stopped Mr. Morgan from touching another child. None of this is your fault. You were just a child, Christian.”

But Christian only shakes his head in denial and frustration. He wonders if he knew the kid back then. He wipes at his face harshly to stop any threat of tears. 

“I can also accompany you if you want someone to support you at appointments or court or anything,” she says significantly. 

But Christian doesn’t want to talk to anyone about this again. He just wants to get back to normal. “Whatever,” he cuts her off. 

“Ok,” she soothes. “Here’s my card. You can call the crisis center any time. If I’m not available, the hotline always has someone available that you can talk to about anything.”

“I just wanna go home now,” he mumbles, tears filling his eyes, and he blinks them furiously away. 

He just feels overwhelmed. They’re asking about his sex life and how he feels about for god’s sake. He’s overwhelmed by his own emotions and shame and guilt, by actually seeing his mother’s emotions. His leg twitches up and down in agitation. 

“Ok,” she continues. “Let’s go downstairs and see your mom and sister.”

Christian jumps out of his seat practically, stuffing the card she gave him into the back pocket of Steve’s jeans that he’s wearing.  
She leads the way back downstairs where he sees his momma sitting beside Jenny. Both women stand up as he approaches. 

When Christian’s momma draws him into her body with an arm, Christian goes willingly. He feels like a small child again, like he doesn’t have control over anything anymore, and he wants her affection now, almost clinging to her. 

“Alright,” she says as her hand moves up to cup his neck like the child he feels like. “Can we go home now?” she asks the  
investigators, as if she’s not in control either. 

“Of course, ma’am,” the blue-eyed prosecutor says politely, walking them to the door. “We’ll keep you informed.”

As they leave the house, Christian twists his head back to see his sister following. She still just looks awkward and sedate, not two words that he would normally associate with her. She’s always been the social one, the one that is always surrounded by people and looks at home in any situation. But she’s barely spoken the whole day. He has no idea who spoke to her about what.

His momma leads him right to the passenger side of their car, leaving Jenny to get in the backseat again. For a moment, they’re all completely silent as they begin to drive home. 

“Did they tell you that you won’t have to have a medical exam?” his momma asks, breaking the silence. “Because you were just in the hospital.”

Christian squirms uncomfortably, not wanting to talk about this with her, not really wanting to talk about this at all. He doesn’t want to talk at all anymore and so he looks out at the window even as he feels compelled to answer her.

“Yeah, she said,” Christian says. 

“But they think that you should be tested, for HIV and STDs,” she continues despite his apathy, talking as if this isn’t happening to him. “Just like the doctor said at the hospital in LA. The counselor went ahead and made the testing appointment at a clinic for tomorrow.”

Christian just continues staring out the window. He wishes he could see his sister’s face, wishes he knew how much Jenny can guess about his time in LA. 

“Chris?” she prompts. Even though, she didn’t actually ask him a question.

“I’ll go,” he snipes. 

She pauses for a second after his sharp reply. “Whatever the tests show, we’ll deal with it, Chris. No matter what happens. There are lots of drugs to control HIV nowadays…”

“I know,” Christian interrupts. He does not want to think about testing positive, doesn’t want to think about his momma’s reaction to that no matter what she says. He just wants to show up to the appointment and let them have their blood sample, whatever. He doesn’t care. 

 

Soon their car is pulling into the driveway and Christian can’t wait to jump out of the car. But then he realizes there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape his momma and her concern and his sister and her awkwardness and this damn police investigation. There’s no way to escape himself. He’s practically twitching as he waits at the door waiting for her to unlock it and then hurries inside. 

“What would you like for lunch, sweetheart,” his momma’s voice stops Christian in his tracks on the way to his room. Jenny walks right past him heading to her own room. 

“C’mon, you two,” his momma calls her two children back. “Let’s all eat lunch before you go, Jenny. What’ll it be? Sandwiches? I could make burgers…or salads.”

Jenny heaves a soft sigh, but turns around quickly and heads to the table, passing by Christian both times without even looking at him. 

“I don’t want anything to eat,” Christian admits, not looking at the two women in the kitchen. 

“Chris, I know this…” his momma starts sympathetically. 

“No!” Christian yells, his anger suddenly bursting out. “You don’t know! I don’t want to eat anything! You can’t just pretend like nothing happened, make sandwiches like we weren’t just talking to the police! You never make lunch for us!”

Christian suddenly spins on his heel, sprinting into his bedroom, his rant finished but not his anger. His chest is heaving like he’s just run a race. He doesn’t really mean to slam the door, but he does and then throws himself down on his bed. Biting his pillow, he holds his breath for a moment, listening, sure that any second his momma will burst in through his door to punish him for his outburst. But nothing happens. Apparently she’s going to ignore this too. 

His breath when he exhales is loud and noisy, full of the tears that then start to fall. He hates this. He was better off on the streets where he didn’t have to think about anyone else, didn’t have to deal with any of this, where he wasn’t disappointing anyone.  
She can’t understand and doesn’t want to see, and he can’t make her. He doesn’t need anyone, and they don’t need him. He’s only been here one night and look what’s happened. He’s ruining everything. 

He doesn’t know how long he lies there just crying like a baby, sobs shaking his shoulders as he’s curled around the pillow. But eventually he starts to feel more guilty than angry for the way he shouted at his mom. She doesn’t deserve that, doesn’t deserve him being here at all in fact. She deserves a better son, a son who wouldn’t have run away leaving another boy defenseless. But at the very least he shouldn’t have yelled at her, should have been able to keep his emotions locked away like a real man. He’s so grateful that she didn’t just reject him when he first confessed what he did with Jeff. He should act like he’s grateful instead of being a little bitch.

Sitting up and wiping his face with the backs of his hands, he wishes that there was a bathroom connected to his bedroom like at Steve’s house. He wants to splash water on his face before he has to apologize to his mom. 

Miserable, he stands and goes to open his bedroom door. He walks out quietly, but he instantly notices his momma sitting at the table. Hanging his head, he shuffles over to her, looking at the newspaper she has spread out over the table instead of at her face. 

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, knowing how terribly inadequate it sounds after how he acted. He doesn’t think he’s ever yelled at his momma like that not even when he was a little kid. But he doesn’t know what else to say so he falls silent. 

“It’s ok, Chris,” she finally says. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Christian sinks into the chair and braces for a lecture, still not looking at her. He knows he deserves her anger at him. 

“I understand that you’re upset. You have a right to be upset, and a need to express your frustrations. I’m upset too, but not at you, honey. This is not your fault. We all need to work together to get past this,” she says all too reasonably, like she’s trying to convince herself as well as him. 

Christian just can’t believe that she thinks that she can just fix this, that “getting past this” is even possible. 

Her voice is fake cheerful as she takes a breath and continues. “Jenny went out and got you a pair of jeans that I want you to try on, and some sweatpants. Eventually we will have to buy you some new shoes as well. She’s gone now to pick up some things from her apartment, but she’ll be back by dinnertime. Is there anything you wanted me to make for dinner? I can have her pick any additional ingredients up on her way back…” she trails off and he can feel her eyes on him. 

He can’t help glancing up briefly, before shrugging his shoulders. No matter how much he wants to please her, he just can’t think of anything to say. It seems she didn’t listen at all when he was screaming that he didn’t want to eat.

But after a moment’s silence she makes the choice for him. “How about that Mexican chicken casserole you like?”

He nods, grateful to have yet another reprieve when he’s startled by the phone ringing. His first thought is that it’s the police again. Or Jeff. Or his neighbors saying everyone knows about him now and they want him out of the neighborhood. 

He’s stuck frozen as she stands up and picks up the cordless phone. “Hello,” she answers politely. “Oh, hi, yes, of course. Here he is.”

Christian’s confused, more so when she hands the phone to him. “Hello?” he asks cautiously. 

“Christian,” he hears, and he recognizes Steve’s voice immediately. But he’s not sure why Steve would be calling. 

“Hey,” Christian starts. “What’re you…” he trails off as his momma starts gesturing at him. “What?” he asks her.

“You can go talk in your bedroom for some privacy,” she says softly. 

Christian’s heart freezes in fear again. Does she know about Steve? That Christian slept with Steve too?

“N-no,” he stutters, not paying attention to Steve’s voice on the line trying to get his attention. “I don’t need privacy.”

She looks at him like she thinks he’s being weird, then says, “Well, I don’t need to listen to the one-sided conversation of a couple of teenage boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, chastened, and gets up to go into his room. He’s closing the door when he speaks into the phone, “Steve?”

Steve lets out a big sigh when he hears Christian speak to him again, and flops back down on his back on the bed. He’d picked up the phone to call Christian as soon as he got home from work and at this point, he’s relieved that Christian’s mom even let him talk to Christian. He’s already smiling when he speaks again. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Christian answers awkwardly. “How are you?”

Steve almost laughs at the polite reply. “I’m good. I was thinking of you, wanted to know how you felt to be home again.”

Steve doesn’t say that he misses Christian and that he’s worried about Christian, doesn’t mention that he’s worried because he knows about the abuse that led Christian to run away. He doesn’t want to push Christian too hard so he tries to keep it casual. 

“Oh,” Christian blurts out. He’s been thinking so much about Jeff, about things that happened in Norman like he never left. No one else has really asked or talked about him running away for two years. No one has asked him about what he did in LA, except his momma asking a little about Steve, grasping desperately onto the least traumatic part. “It’s fine,” he answers instinctively. 

But then Christian sighs as he sits down on his own bed, leaning against the headboard. “I mean it’s weird, I guess,” he admits, reluctantly. 

“But your mom is cool?” Steve asks cautiously. “She seemed really happy to see you.” Jesus there are too many land mines in this conversation, Steve thinks. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Christian answers. 

He doesn’t really know how his momma really feels about him being back, now that she knows why he left. He knows she loves him, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t pissed at him, that she isn’t going to reject him eventually just like he deserves. Particularly now with the police involved, but Christian doesn’t want to talk about that.

“Has she made you those chocolate chip cookies?” Steve asks, jokingly. He realizes his mistake when Christian doesn’t answer for a minute. He’s just about to apologize or something when Christian finally answers. 

“Naw,” Christian says. Christian tries to be nonchalant about it, but the word comes out too soft. 

Steve feels like any questions about Oklahoma or Christian’s family is just going to make Christian upset. It’s hard to remember that Christian doesn’t really trust him, not yet, and Steve supposes that Christian is justified in his mistrust of people. So he switches tactics, trying to remember what worked in the past. 

“Jensen and Jay and everybody say hey,” Steve tries, using Christian’s nickname for Jason. 

Christian nods. He did like Jay, the guy was just fun and easygoing. But then Christian has a horrible thought. “Do they…they don’t know about the hospital and stuff, do they?” he accuses. 

“No,” Steve defends, even though it’s half lie because Jensen does knows. And all of a sudden he feels really guilty for that. “I just told them that your mom came to pick you up, but not how she found you or anything.”

Steve lets that sink in for a minute, but he doesn’t want Christian to start dwelling on it. “Jay broke up with his girlfriend,” Steve continues. 

The breakup didn’t happen today and it wasn’t really a big deal but Steve needs to talk about something besides Christian and his family. Steve feels like gossip might make Christian feel more like part of them, of him and his group of friends. 

“Oh,” Christian says confused. He doesn’t know whether to be sympathetic for Jay or what. He only saw that girl like once.  
Christian pulls his knees into his chest.

“Well, she broke up with him, but Jay’s not upset about it or anything. He changes girlfriends about as often as he changes underwear,” Steve explains teasingly.

“Go Jay,” Christian says blandly. 

He’s surprised when Steve laughs, surprised into smiling himself at the sound of Steve’s happiness. 

“I’ll tell him you think he’s a playa,” Steve says in an awful hood accent, smile still evident in his voice. 

“Hey,” Christian says, mock-annoyed. “I didn’t say that, exactly. If he’s got it though…”

Steve chuckles a little. “There was nobody at the store today so Jay and I just messed around most of the shift, and I was thinking of a new song. Came up with this lick…”

Christian’s smile turns upside down into a frown. He feels suddenly sad because he wishes that he could hear it, that he could help Steve with another song. It seems helping Steve with his song writing is the only thing that he’s not total shit at. He hates to admit that it was kinda fun writing songs and he’s going to miss doing it with Steve. 

“Let me grab my guitar,” Steve continues, sitting up. He puts his cell on speaker and lays it on the bed before leaning over to grab his guitar from the nearby stand. “Christian, can you hear me?”

“Um, yeah,” Christian says, not understanding what the other teen is doing. But Steve’s voice sounds different. 

“Ok, so here’s the lick,” Steve says. 

Christian smiles, his knees falling to one side as the sound of Steve playing the guitar comes across the phone. “Yeah,” he says when it ends. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Steve smiles, laying the guitar on the bed and picking the phone back up, but not turning off speaker. “Do you have a guitar there?”

Christian fidgets. There is a guitar sitting on a stand in the living room, but he still can’t imagine picking it up yet. “Yeah, I just…”

“Hey, you don’t have to,” Steve says soothingly. “You just got home and everything. I just thought maybe it would make you feel better.”

Christian thinks about it, his father’s guitar, the possibility of failing at playing it. Plus that his momma is here all the time now. He doesn’t want her to hear him playing, just like he doesn’t want her to see him crying like a little girl. 

“I like listening to you.” Christian doesn’t mean to admit it, didn’t mean to make Steve feel like he has to keep calling. What are they doing? Why would Steve care about him still from hundreds of miles away?

“Maybe we could write the song together, over the phone?” Steve ventures. 

“I don’t know,” Christian obfuscates. He doesn’t want to say no, even though he should. “Maybe once I pick up the guitar again. I mean, my momma’s staying home with me this week and I don’t want…”

“She got time off work to be with you?” Steve interrupts to ask.

Christian didn’t really mean to reveal that, didn’t mean to talk about his family. “Yeah, til Friday. And she’s kinda making Jenny stay here too, though now Jenny has her own apartment.” Her own life, Christian thinks. Jenny doesn’t want to deal with this at all. 

“That’s nice, right?” Steve questions. “She wants to spend time with you. I mean it’s been a long time since you’ve seen them.”  
Steve is cautious with what he says to Christian, but in his mind, he’s so relieved that Christian’s mom seems to really care about her son.

“I guess,” Christian says honestly, but then he realizes how ungrateful that sounds. “I love my family. It’s just…weird.”

Steve imagines that it would be weird after two years much less all the other things that Christian is dealing with. But he doesn’t have time to say anything else as Christian quickly continues talking in a different, rushed tone of voice. 

“My sister just got home, I should go,” Christian says.

“Sure,” Steve responds. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? I just wanna keep in touch. Who else can fix my songs like you can?” Steve queries, trying to sound light so as not to pressure Christian. 

The silence is just a little too long before Christian speaks again. “Um, yeah,” Christian finally answers. “You don’t have to call me, but…”

“I want to call you, and I want to come visit, and I’m not going to give up unless you just don’t want to talk to me anymore,” Steve says in a rush. 

Christian has a smile on his face though he tries to stop it. He likes that Steve seems to like him, wants to keep in contact with him. Christian wants to be wanted. It’s like a warmth in his belly, but then his chest squeezes. He doesn’t want to ruin things with Steve, but he’s bound to, even though Steve’s all the way on the other end of the telephone. 

“It just wouldn’t be like you to give up,” Christian jokes. Then in a softer voice he says, “And I won’t stop you.”

Steve smiles at the admission and the fact that Christian joked with him. “Ok, tomorrow then.”

“Ok, bye,” Christian says awkwardly. 

“Bye,” Steve answers still smiling as he ends the phone calls. 

That whole thing went better than he thought it would, frankly. Christian’s mom was perfectly ok with him calling, and Christian did speak to him even though it was a little awkward. Christian never says a whole lot, but he answered Steve’s main questions about how Christian’s mom is coping. 

Steve just wishes that he could be there so that he could see what’s really going on. Talking to Christian didn’t clear up all his questions. He wants to know exactly how Christian’s mom is reacting to Christian’s confession. Is she talking about it or ignoring it? Is she getting him help? Steve doesn’t even know how much help Christian might need.

That thought gives Steve an idea. He gets off his bed and goes over to his desk where his lap top is sitting. It feels really strange to google child abuse, and he can’t help wondering what people would think if they looked at his browser history, but he needs to actually know what to do. 

But an hour later Steve’s more frustrated than ever. He’s read over and over again about trust issues and emotional problems, relationship problems in abused children but he’s not sure what any of it really means. What would it be like to have trust issues? What can he do if he wants to have a relationship with someone who has these relationship issues?

It is interesting to read that a sign of sexual child abuse is running away. That’s a surprise, Steve thinks to himself. Not. Maybe that’s why Christian told, it’s not like he could brush off his running away from home for two years. 

With a sigh, Steve practices on his guitar for a while, though he isn’t in the mood to try to create the song from the lick he came up with. But playing makes him feel a little better by the time his mom calls him to dinner. 

“So how is Christian doing?” his mom asks as she sits down at the table. Steve’s Dad is already passing Steve the potatoes. 

“Good, I think,” Steve says serving himself. “He says his mom is staying home with him this week and so is his sister. But he’s obviously a little uncomfortable with everything.”

“Understandable,” his Dad interjects. “Does his mom have any support?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “It’s not like Christian is really forthcoming about his situation.”

They all make noises of agreement as they begin to eat. Steve hates this, hates talking and thinking and worrying about this when he can’t do anything. He thinks after dinner he’ll call Jensen and see if the other teen can play halo with him online. Anything to get his mind off of this for a minute.

*** 

Christian jerks awake the next morning, terrified, his heart pounding as he sits up, his eyes searching the room for some threat. But there’s nothing in the room that wasn’t there last night. 

Of course, that’s scary enough, he supposes, to be back in his home with his momma on the other side of the wall. It’s just as scary as it was two years ago. Then he would lie in this bed on his side, trying to keep pressure off of his backside, listening for any sound of his momma waking up. He’d sometimes wake up terrified his momma simply knew what he’d been doing with Jeff, that the next morning she’d see him, finally see that he was sitting stiffly, she’d find the bloody underwear that he hid in the bottom of the trash in the kitchen. But she never saw anything. 

Knowing it was a nightmare even if he can’t remember what it was about, Christian flops back down on the mattress, curling in on his side and pulling the covers up to his chin. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, his heart is racing too fast, but he doesn’t want to get up either. His life is nearly as bad as his nightmares.

He’s startled again by a sharp tapping on his door that he recognizes instantly as his momma’s even though it’s been years since he heard it. It’s been awhile since he had a door to be knocked on. At Steve’s house, it wasn’t really his door. But then again, he thinks that it may just be a matter of time before he’ll leave here again anyway. 

“Chris?” his momma calls out. “Are you up? Breakfast’ll be in ten minutes so please get dressed.”

“Ok,” he calls back though he makes no move to get up. He doesn’t want to face the day. There are too many horrible possibilities that could happen, that probably will happen. 

Last night had been a calm evening at home. His momma had asked about Steve again after the phone call, saying that Steve seemed like a nice boy, and how nice of Steve to call so soon. Christian had even been able to eat some of the dinner his momma made for him. 

After dinner, they all watched tv with him for a while, and even let him pick the show. Which was weird. He can remember when Jenny and he used to fight over who got to pick what to watch when they were both home, and he can remember when his momma used to tell him not to watch such violent shows. They’re being nice to him, he realizes, like they think he’s broken. Maybe he is broken but he never wanted them to know. 

And Steve…he doesn’t know what to think about that. Steve is nice to him too, but Steve’s not careful with him. Christian always feels better when Steve plays the guitar. It gives him something else to focus on, something that actually makes him care. And it was really nice of Steve to play it over the phone. Christian wants to make Steve happy so Steve will continue. But Jeff did things that Christian liked too, wrestling, and throwing a ball, and eating fast food and watching action movies. But it didn’t mean Jeff actually cared about him. 

Christian looks at the clock and forces himself to get up. The clothes Jenny bought him fit well enough and he takes a new pair of jeans and boxers into the bathroom to get a shower. He knows he’s running late getting ready for the clinic appointment, but he’s hoping it’ll mean he gets to skip breakfast. 

No such luck. When he comes out clean and dressed, his momma breaks a couple eggs just for him while telling him to start with the bacon and toast on the table. Christian has to wonder how much this is costing his momma. She’s taking time off, undoubtedly without pay, and she’s buying all this expensive food, food he’s not even eating. She should just leave out some cereal for him. 

He does take a bite of bacon and a bite of toast before she slides the freshly scrambled eggs on his plate. Looking down at them, his breath catches in his chest all of a sudden, freezing in there like his heart has turned to lead and is weight him down. He no longer sees his momma’s china, hears her moving around the kitchen, now he sees Jeff’s cheap plastic ware, how Jeff always made runny eggs that slid around his plate like Jeff’s spunk leaked into his shorts afterward.

Christian can almost feel Jeff’s hand landing on the back of his neck as it often did when he hears his momma’s voice bringing him back to the present. He sucks in a desperate breath before he concentrates on the words she’s saying. 

“Do you not like your food?” his momma asks. 

Christian can feel her eyes on him, Jenny’s too so he ducks his head against their scrutiny, trying to calm down, to slow his racing heart and frantic breaths. Christian shakes his head guiltily as he tries to get enough breath to answer. 

“It’s great,” he says, stupidly trying to compliment her. He should have been being more grateful for all her hard work, he berates himself. 

“If you want something else, just tell me. It won’t upset me if you do,” she responds. 

“No,” he says more forcefully, putting a forkful of eggs in his mouth. 

She lets it go then but Christian think it’s reluctantly and more a factor of not having time to continue the conversation. She’s already cleaning up. He hurries to dump his remaining food in the trash and add his plate to the dishwasher. 

“Go brush your teeth real quick,” she says seeming a little disappointed in him. 

Christian bows his head. He never wanted to disappoint her but that’s really all that he seems to do. And this HIV test will just disappoint her further. She’ll know that he had sex with more than just Jeff and then she’ll know that it’s really all his fault. 

He keeps his bowed after closing the bathroom door behind him, not looking up at the mirror as he grabs his toothbrush and  
toothpaste. 

He very well knows that he could have HIV and not even know it, and if he did he’d have no one to blame but himself. He’s so stupid. It’s just another thing, a test that will tell everyone that he’s a stupid slut who deserves a lingering death. Yeah, there are meds, but don’t they make you really sick? And they’re really expensive? He would never ask his momma to pay for those too. 

What would be the point of living if he has HIV? He should’ve just died of that overdose if all he has to look forward to is pills and being sick and talking to the damn police and everybody talking about him. 

And he’ll never have sex again. No one will ever touch him again, ever want him again. He’ll be even more worthless than he is now.  
It takes him a minute to realize that if he is infected, he may have infected someone else. Frankly, he doesn’t feel anything about the idea that he infected any of those scumbags in the park…but then there’s Steve. He’d rather be dead than have to face the idea that he may have infected Steve. 

“Chris? C’mon, we need to go,” his momma calls to him through the bathroom door. 

Christian sighs and steps out of the bathroom. There’s nothing he can do to get out of this. His momma’s already got her purse on her shoulder, but Jenny is sitting on the couch with the tv on. 

Christian supposes that she doesn’t have to go. She doesn’t need to be tested like an animal to determine if he should be put down after all. 

“Ok, I’ll call you when we’re on our way back so you can have the burgers ready for lunch,” his momma instructs Jenny. 

“Ok,” Jenny answers. “Bye,” she says, hesitantly giving him a smile. 

In the car, his momma turns down the radio immediately as she’s pulling out. “Chris? I just want you to remember that no matter what the results show that your sister and I love you and support you. HIV is not a death sentence.”

“I know, momma,” Christian mutters unconvincingly as he stares out the window. “I just wanna get this over with.”

“We can cancel and reschedule if you’d like the crisis counselor to be with you,” she continues. 

“No, it’s ok,” he answers. The last thing he wants is another witness, another reminder that people think he’s a victim. 

The drive to the clinic isn’t far and Christian is surprised to see that it’s in a strip mall with a Papa John’s. And they have to ring the doorbell and wait to be buzzed in. But it’s nice enough on the inside, lots of posters and pamphlets on sex, of course. And the woman who checks them in is smiling and seems nice. She gives him some paperwork on a clipboard though his momma is the one who introduces them. 

The sheet is just a bunch of demographic information so he fills out his name and address, but gives it to his momma to fill in about their income. And then she goes up to the counter to turn the paper in for him, leaving him looking around the room at the other patients. There are more women than men, and more young than old. He eventually picks up a magazine just to stop himself from wondering about them. None of them seem to be as anxious as he feels, but he has no idea what is showing on his face. And at least one other girl is accompanied by what he assumes is her mother. 

He doesn't have to wait too long. His momma comes back to sit beside him, taking a book out of her purse, but she hesitates in opening it. He’s looking at his knees but knows she's looking at him, and then she rests her hand on his forearm. 

"You alright?" she asks. 

He's still getting used to her constant attention. It's hard enough getting used to being around her again at all, but having her complete attention like this is even harder. He’s afraid of what she’ll see if she looks too close. 

"Kane," a woman calls out from the door to the back. 

He hesitates a moment before putting down the magazine and standing up. He does not look back at his momma though. 

As soon as he's stepped through the doorway, the woman is speaking again. She's a little shorter than he is, blonde and bubbly. "What's your full name?" she asks. 

"Christian Michael Kane," he says confused. 

"Great. And your birthday?" she's already starting to walk down the short hallway before he answers. 

"June 27," he answers. 

"Just making sure I have the right person," she explains before gesturing him to step into an exam room. "Just have a seat right in that chair."

He takes the seat stiffly as she sits on a rolling stool in front of a counter. "My name is Jennifer," she introduces herself with a genuine smile and she opens the thin file she'd been carrying. "You're here for STD and HIV testing?"

"Ummm," he obfuscates. "Well, I just uhhh...I was treated for gonorrhea?" he pauses, waiting for her nod, "and Chlamydia."

She nods again. "Where were you treated?"

"In the hospital...in LA," he's trying to remember the right answers. 

"And they gave you an antibiotic?" she questions further. 

"I guess,” he says, feeling stupid that he doesn’t really know the answer. “It was in my IV."

"Ok," she says looking back up at him from the forms she was writing on. "Well, we won't test you for those today, but you'll want to be retested in about a month to make sure the infection is gone."

She waits for his nod. He wonders what she thinks about this, talking about things that people don't wanna talk about all day. But she cuts off his thoughts by talking again. 

"We'll test you for HIV and syphilis today then. I just have a few things to explain and some questions to ask you, ok?" she asks.

He doesn't really have a choice and wishes that she'd just get on with it, so he nods. 

"I just want to tell you that our testing is confidential but not anonymous," she starts with the air of a speech long practiced.  
"Ok," he says, not knowing the difference and not caring. His momma had already said this is confidential. 

"Also if you have had sex in the last six weeks, the HIV infection may not show up on this test. You'll need to be retested in three months," she explains.

Fuck, he thinks. Of course he's had sex in the last six weeks so he'll have to come back. This answer won't mean anything if it’s negative. Well, it'll mean that Jeff doesn't have HIV, but Christian doesn't think Jeff does anyway. That's the benefit of having sex with virgins. 

"Ok, just a few questions," she continues looking straight at him. "How many sexual partners have you had in the last three months?"

"Ummm," Christian hesitates, looking down at the counter to his right. He has no fucking idea how many people he's slept with. He usually tries not to think about it too much. "I don't know."

She smiles like she hears this shit all the time, and prompts, "Just give me a rough estimate."

Really? Why does he have to talk about this with her, he wonders. "I guess like..." he wonders if he should subtract from the number he thinks it really is. It's not like it really matters to the test if he's a slut. "Like five?" he says, looking up at her to see her reaction. 

She simply nods and then makes a mark on the page. "And do you sleep with women?" she asks. 

"Yeah," he says sheepishly. 

"What was the date of the last time that you gave oral sex to a woman?" she asks, casually. 

He almost chokes on his own saliva and ends up coughing into his hands. What the hell kinda question is that? "Never," he answers, shocked into honesty. 

She asks a few more questions about when he last did things with women or women did things to him, and gives him a calendar to help him think about it. He lies and says he had vaginal sex with a woman in the last three months. 

"Do you sleep with men?" she asks. 

"Uhhhh..." he answers horrified. But then he realizes that everyone already knows he at least slept with Jeff. They probably already know he’s gay, are already judging him. "Yes," he answers softly. 

"Ok," she says, still cheery. "And what was the date of the last time that you gave oral sex to a man?"

"Oh, I uhhhhh," he looks down at the calendar again. It's not like dates meant anything to him in LA, but he tries. 

He starts just naming random dates for the rest of the questions because it doesn't matter and he doesn't know. But this girl won't accept ‘I don’t know’ as an answer. He feels so ashamed by the end, he knows he's as red as a beat. And then she asks about his condom use, which he knows is stupidly low. 

He knows it’s about to end when she asks him if he has any questions about the test or its accuracy or about HIV/AIDS, and at that point, he just wants to get the fuck out of this fucking room. Since he's been back in OK, it's all been about Jeff. He doesn't even know if his momma knows about the other treatments that he got in the hospital or that the cops came to see him there about having sex with somebody else. 

With Jeff maybe everyone would forgive him because he was a stupid kid, but he let it continue for so long and then he went to LA, and...and he can't let anyone know about all the things he did there. He wasn't really a prostitute, never took money, but he certainly slept with enough guys that they'll think of him that way. 

But then she continues, now asking what he'll do to prevent contracting HIV in the future. When he says he'll use condoms, he honestly wants to. He doesn't want to do this again, certainly doesn't want to put anyone he cares about at risk, but he knows himself. He’s never before asked a guy to use a condom, stopping just because he doesn't have a condom right then. Why would he do it now?

"Ok," she says. "Now I need your blood," she says with a grin at her own humor but he's not in the mood to feel better about this. "The HIV test only takes ten minutes so you'll just wait in here and I'll be back with the results. The syphilis results may take up to two weeks and we will call you on the phone only if the results are positive, ok?"

"Ok," he answers glumly. He lets her grab and position his arm, though he turns his face away when she gets the needle ready. He's had enough of needles recently. 

Answering those questions about his sex life wasn’t half as bad as sitting in that room for ten minutes waiting for the results though. Alone, all he can think about is every nasty guy he let at his ass, every cock he sucked and barely looked at the guy's face. He is a whore and that's undoubtedly what Jeff saw. That's what his momma is gonna see eventually, and Jenny, and Steve, and this whole damn town. 

He picks up a magazine, opening it but not looking down on it. He wonders what his momma is thinking out there, wonders if she's praying, wonders what she'll do if he is positive but Jeff isn't. 

But the longer he waits, the faster his heart beats. It feels like he’s trapped in this little antiseptic-smelling room, like the walls are closing in on him and the air is getting stale, disappearing. Suddenly he feels much smaller, much younger, and he clenches his hands on the edge of the plastic seat he’s sitting in. Suddenly he’s seeing the inside of a different doctor’s office with  
pictures of ducks on the walls, his old pediatrician’s room. And he’s waiting, waiting for the doctor to come back in and say he knows, he knows what the bruises on Christian’s hips mean, what Christian is and what he’s been doing.

Finally the door opens again and he blinks quickly, staring blankly at the blonde woman as she walks into the room.  
She cuts right to the chase as soon as the door closes, "Your HIV test was negative.” 

He's relieved, no matter what he might have said before, even if this is only a temporary reprieve, he's relieved. After all that he’s done, he really thought he’d be positive. 

"Remember that you should be tested for gonorrhea and chlamydia again in a month,” she cuts into his thoughts. “And you should be retested for HIV in three months. If you want to you can always call and ask about your syphilis results to see if we have them. But no news is good news."

He nods stupidly and takes the piece of paper she hands him. She's still standing and smiling as she opens the door again, letting him back out into the hallway. "Just hand that paper to the girl at the desk at the end of the hallway," she instructs. 

He can't help noticing the clinic seems to entirely employ women. Handing over the sheet, he thinks maybe he should go get his mom, but he doesn’t want to just walk away even though he doesn’t have any money. He’s still deciding what to do when the woman simply smiles up at him and says he can go. 

He doesn’t actually care what happened to paying for these tests. He readily pushes open the door to get out of here, but then he sees his momma out there, standing up as she sees him. He’s still in shock and all he can think about was all those guys he slept with in LA, on the way to LA, all the guys that he slept with in the last three months that didn’t show up on the test today. He has had so many hands on him…

“All ready?” she asks with an attempt at a smile on her face. 

He knows what she wants, knows that his demeanor is frightening to her. 

“Negative,” he says. “I’m negative.”

His momma lets out a breath that rocks her whole body and then smiles bigger. “That’s wonderful, sweetie,” she whispers out of breath. But he can see she’s still confused at how he’s acting, confused that he doesn’t seem relieved. “It’s gonna be ok,” she tries, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be ok.”

Christian nods but his face is screwed up tight, trying to control his emotions as they walk out to the car. He’s confessed so much, how can there still be so much hidden?

He remembers when he first ran away, he didn’t think about what he would really do, of course he didn’t. All Christian knew then was that he would not help Jeff touch someone else, would not help to ruin some other little boy. And he knew if he stayed then Jeff would make him somehow. Jeff might tell his mom about the sex, he might tell everyone, he might kick Christian off the wrestling team or get his momma fired or cause Jenny to lose that scholarship. 

He thought he was lucky to find a ride out of town that same day. Maybe he was also lucky to learn right away what his new life would consist of. 

** Christian is fourteen, thin and gangly in that way that most preteens are. And he's scared. It's dark now, past midnight, and his momma is sure to have noticed him missing. 

They're at a rest stop. Christian is washing his hands in the bathroom while the driver who picked him up, Billy, is at the vending machines. Christian is hungry but his stomach is clenched tight with fear and he can't waste what little money he has anyway. 

He's making his way back to the eighteen wheeler when a hand grabs his wrist hard. His fear doesn't dissipate when he sees it's just Billy, because Billy is dragging him away from the light, into the dark areas in the trees. 

Christian is so shocked he falls on the ground when the guy gives him a shove, hitting his knees hard. Heart pounding, He just hopes that he's not going to die out here. 

In the dark, Christian can barely see what Billy is doing. Billy’s hands are on his jeans, unzipping his fly, and that's when Christian knows, when Christian understands. Jeff's the only guy he's ever been with, but this guy, Billy, doesn't give a shit about him, this guy only wants payments for the ride. 

"I don't normally pick up boys," Billy says lowly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But your mouth..."

Billy's voice trails off as he pulls his dick out and then he grabs at Christian's head, trying to find a grasp in short brown hair.  
But Christian doesn't fight, doesn't need to be forced. He's where he's meant to be, on his knees. ***

It's the car jerking to a stop that jerks Christian out of seeing another time, another place. With a sob, he's scrambling out of the car and sprinting into the house. He runs straight to his room, locking the door behind him. 

But he doesn't get beyond the door before he starts to cry, sobs that feel like his chest has been wrenched open. He just sits down right there in front of the door as he cries. 

The knock has him scooting forward, further into the room. He knows he's making too much noise and tries vainly to quiet himself as his momma calls out to him through the door. 

"Chris? Are you alright, sweetheart?" she calls. 

Christian tries, tries to stop crying, but he just can't. 

"F-fine," he gets the word out, before swiping harshly at his face and trying again. "I'm fi-ne, mom-ma," he says thickly, his breath hitching in the middle of his words. 

It's obvious she doesn't believe him when he hears her try to turn the knob. He knows she doesn't like them to lock the doors, but no way is he letting her in to see him like this. 

"Chris, unlock the door," she says more firmly. 

His sobs get louder for a second in response to her chastisement. He knows she can hear him anyway, but he won’t let her in. 

"I'm fine," he shouts, angrily. 

She doesn't say anything else, but he can't hear whether she's walked away or not over the sound of his sobs. But he quits trying to stop. He doesn't even know why he's crying all of a sudden. It's not like he didn't know he was a whore, not like he didn't know that everyone would hate him if they knew. If the police knew that there were so many guys, they wouldn't be nice to him, wouldn't be investigating Jeff because they'd know it was all his fault. 

Eventually the sobs quiet some. His breath is still hitching as he unsteadily gets off the floor and goes over to lie down on his bed. More tears fall on his pillow as he grabs some tissues from the box on the bedside table. Every time he thinks he’s stopped, then a few more tears will fall. 

He knows he has to go back out there soon. He can't hide in his room forever. Just as he knows that he can’t hide forever from his momma, from his sister. He knows the truth'll come out eventually. They'll see eventually. 

HIs face scrunches up and the tears threaten again, but he stuffs it down this time. Here he is feeling sorry for himself when it's all his fault anyway. He's so stupid. He deserves this, deserves for them to know, to know everything. They'll reject him once they know, make him leave, throw him out. They should have just left him in LA.

Sitting up in bed with his knees tucked into his chest, Christian tries to motivate himself to step outside his room again. He knows his momma's worried and that just makes him feel more pathetic. Just fake being ok for God's sake, he tells himself. But so far all he's done back in OK is act like a two year old having a temper tantrum. 

Sighing, Christian dawdles for a while longer before finally getting up. But once standing, he's determined and he goes over to the door and pulls it open. 

He's not sure exactly what he was expecting, but his momma and sister on the couch together watching tv isn't it. But his momma looks up at his arrival immediately. 

"Chris, are you alright?" she asks again. 

It seems like she’s always asking him that, that everyone is always asking him that, Christian thinks, disparaging himself. He simply nods in answer. 

"We already had lunch, but I can warm a burger up for you if you want," her voice is so soft, as if she thinks that he'll shatter with a single harsh word. But he does feel like he might shatter. He feels like a pathetic victim.

"No, ma'am, he answers, shaking his head too for good measure. 

She lets it go this time, still looking at him like he's too fragile to push right now. "Would you like to watch tv with us?" she offers, gesturing at the empty space next to her on the couch. 

Christian thinks that he should say yes, that he should try to make nice and everything for a while, make it up to her but he's not in the mood. "No," he says. "I just uhh...wanted a glass of water. I'm just reading in my room."

"Let me get it for you," she says, standing. It makes him feel guilty that she thinks he needs to be helped like a little kid, like he’s too pathetic to do it himself. But he follows her to the kitchen. 

"Are you upset about the tests today?" she asks softly, as if she thinks he wants privacy from Jenny. 

He just shrugs in response. 

"The HIV test was negative?" she asks again. 

"Yeah," he reassures her. "We have to wait for the syphilis test though."

It takes a minute for him to realize that he didn't mention the gonorrhea or Chlamydia tests. Fuck, he thinks and his eyes open wide. He quickly thinks of a lie, maybe saying that those tests are gonna take time too. 

"Ok, so we have to go back in three months to make certain, but that's good," she reassures him not even mentioning the other tests. "Syphilis can be cleared up with antibiotics."

He nods, not wanting to draw any attention to the other tests or his freakout. He takes the glass as soon as she hands it over and scurries back to his room. But he can’t stay in the bedroom, he has to go to the bathroom. Putting down the glass, he reluctantly hurries out again, staring at the carpet the whole way. 

After relieving himself and splashing water on his face, he’s back in his room staring at the few books on his shelf. He wasn’t a big reader back then but now he certainly sees the benefit of having something in his room to occupy himself with. He wonders if he could ask for new books. He hates to ask her to buy him anything but she might take it as a good sign. She might be proud of him for doing something not as mindless as watching tv. 

Then again she might make him go pick out the books. It’s been bad enough to have to go out to that kid’s house and the clinic, but to chance actually seeing other people he knows, having them look at him and know that he ran away, know what happens to stupid boys who run away to big cities, know that he accused Jeff of. 

He’s still staring at the book spines when there’s a knock on his door again. This time he didn’t lock the door but she doesn’t try the handle. Walking over, he’s surprised to see his momma holding the phone. 

“It’s Steve again, sweetie,” she says offering him the phone. 

Christian takes the phone. He doesn't know why he's surprised that Steve would call again, but he is. Steve is that kinda guy who actually does what he said he would. 

"Steve?" Christian answers the phone. 

"Hey," Steve says with a smile on his face and in his voice. He's still just happy every time Christian takes his call. "What's up?"

Christian hesitates. Steve wouldn't call, wouldn’t care if he knew the truth, if he knew what Christian had done today, if Steve knew that Christian might've infected him with HIV. And maybe that'd be best for everyone. 

"Nothing," Christian says gruffly, his voice gone tight with anxiety and anger, anger at himself, anger at the world. 

Steve frowns, concerned at the tone of Christian’s voice. "Are you ok?" he asks concerned

Christian's face twists at Steve's kindness. He’s so tired of people asking him that. "No, I’m not ok,” he snaps.

“Hey, it’s ok to be upset,” Steve tries to soothe. “I can’t imagine how hard…”

“No, you can’t,” Christian interrupts. He hates when people say that. “Do you know where I was today? I was tested for fucking STDs today. And for AIDS, Steve.”

Steve doesn't speak immediately and Christian just keeps going, picking up speed. "I needed to be tested after all the guys I fucked, Steve. That's why I ran away, you know, and all the guys in LA, homeless guys living in the park," he spits. 

Steve feels stricken, shocked at the way Christian’s attacking him. But he’s not going to let himself get angry. He can’t be mad when Christian’s words are so defeated, when Christian is really attacking himself. 

Plus Steve already knows. But he can't tell Christian that Mary already told him about the other guys. He can’t say that he suspected from the very beginning of meeting Christian, but he was just too stupid to really see. 

"It'll be ok, Christian," Steve makes another attempt, trying to come up with anything to say to make Christian feel better. "Some STDs are treatable, and HIV…there are, there are drugs now. Plenty of people lead long healthy lives with HIV."

"Don't you get it?” Christian strikes out again, frustrated by Steve’s calm when Steve is the one who should be angry. “I could have given you HIV. I tested positive for gonorrhea and Chlamydia in the hospital so you need to get checked."

“Ok,” Steve says calmly despite that he knows his momma is gonna be really upset about this. “I will go get tested. Thanks for telling me.”

“Why are you thanking me?!” Christian explodes. “I might’ve given you AIDS!”

“Christian,” Steve says calmly. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t force me. If I have something, I have to take responsibility for that.” 

Steve knows that the blame lies squarely on his own shoulders. He’s the one who should have known better, who should have stopped things. He feels like he practically took advantage of Christian. 

Christian is at a total loss for words. He can’t understand Steve’s response. “Aren’t you scared?” he asks in a softer voice.  
Steve answers honestly, “Yes. I am scared about having HIV. Are you scared?”

Christian shifts, angry at Steve for turning the conversation back to him again. “No,” he lies gruffly. He lies out of spite, he hates how Steve somehow manages to get him to say things, reveal things he doesn’t mean to. 

Steve is too calm, he thinks, too careful of him like his momma and sister are, like Steve…like Steve pities him. Like Steve knows.  
“Do you know?” Christian practically accuses Steve. “Do you know why I ran away? What I did?”

Steve’s silent for just a beat too long, long enough that Christian can figure out the answer to his question. Steve’s known the whole time.

“How?” Christian almost chokes on the word. 

Steve hates himself, hates that this is going to hurt Christian, one more hurt on top of everything else. “Your mom…she was so upset after you told her and then she saw…”

“She told you?!” Christian interrupts horrified. “Who else knows?!”

“Christian,” Steve says louder, trying to pull the other teen back from the freak-out he’s having. “You have a right to be upset.  
But she was really upset too. She got you back after two years and then to learn what your coach did…she just blurted it out when she saw David there.”

Steve shut his mouth with a snap, feeling like he just went way too far, the comment much too personal.

Christian sucks in a shocked breath as well. Not because of how Steve said it aloud like that, just put it all out there. No, it’s the guilt that suddenly hits him like a punch in the chest that shocks him.

“She’s gonna hate me,” Christian responds, tears springing to his eyes. “She should hate me.” 

Steve can hear the sudden emotion choking Christian and Steve gets a little choked up too. “No,” Steve says the word like he’s begging and he supposes that he is. “It wasn’t your fault. He was your coach, and you were a kid. She loves you.”

Steve hopes that his last statement is true, hopes that Christian will confirm it. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve…I don’t even know why you still call me, if you knew the whole time,” Chris laments. 

“Because you do deserve her love,” Steve convinces. “And I’m gonna keep calling. I just want to help you.”

Christian doesn’t know what to say to that, it seems there’s no convincing Steve. It’s ridiculous and yet….and yet Christian isn’t angry at him anymore. He feels numb, too confused to figure out what he feels about Steve still calling him. 

“Steve, I…” Christian doesn’t even know what he wants to say. “I have to go,” he says quickly. 

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Steve says hopefully.

“Ok,” Christian agrees readily enough, not knowing what else to say.

That quick agreement has Steve smiling even as he hears the click of the line being disconnected.

But the smile doesn’t last. Steve drops the phone down on the bed and then flops on the bed himself. To say that conversation didn’t go well is an understatement. Though Steve has no idea why he thought this would suddenly be easy. If he thought it sucked yesterday to be so far away from Christian, it kills him today knowing that Christian is so upset. He wants to be the one to make everything better. 

Fuck, he thinks. He’s trying not to freak out himself over the idea that he might have HIV. They used a condom, and were pretty safe, but there’s always a chance that the condom was defective or something. He knew that he should be tested without Christian telling him, but he hadn’t really thought about the risk until now. 

But Steve can't just lay there feeling sorry for himself tonight. The guys are all going to play some basketball and eat pizza tonight. Steve suspects it's to keep his mind off of Christian. He knows if he doesn’t go, they’ll all worry about him. Or at least, Jensen and Jason will. 

He’s already heard about the other guys’ reactions from Jensen. Tom apparently said that Steve should be glad that he reunited Christian with his family and leave it at that. Mike thinks that he should forget about Christian now. Everybody seems to have an opinion. Except Chad, wisely, seems to be keeping his mouth shut. 

With a sigh, Steve gets up and opens his dresser drawers to get dressed. But Steve sees his gym shorts and is reminded of the time he gave Christian shorts to wear, that day that they talked and sang in the sunlight and then stared at the stars together. Everything seems to remind him of Christian even though the other teen was in his house barely a week. 

As Steve pulls a blue pair of shorts up his legs, he has to think how Christian feels back in Oklahoma. Everything in his hometown must remind Christian of the abuse he suffered. Christian hasn't spoken about the coach on the phone at all and Steve wonders if the man has had any contact with Christian. 

Dammit, he wishes that David would hurry up and get there already. Course maybe David is there and the bastard just isn't calling Steve. David wasn't exactly thrilled to have Steve continue to be in Christian’s life. 

Steve pulls on a t-shirt and then tries to brush his hair back into a low ponytail. Then he puts on his tennis shoes and he's out the door. 

"Bye, mom," Steve calls out as he's leaving the house. 

He's thankful for the basketball game, thankful that his friends care about him so much. But his own worries still weigh on him.  
What if Christian does have HIV? Even if Steve didn’t get it, that will be just one more horrible thing for Christian to have to deal with? And how will it affect the possibility of any kind of romantic relationship between them? 

And he’s still worried what to tell his friends who will probably ask about Christian. How much information can he give and not betray Christian? It's not like they don't know that after running away for two years that Christian would be having a hard time of it even if he doesn't tell them what happened in particular. 

It’s a constant question in his head, and then of course there's the guilt he feels that he told Jensen totally without Christian's knowledge or permission. Even if he really needed a friend, it was wrong. 

Steve sighs as he parks the car and steps out. He can see Jensen and Jared already on the court messing around as he walks up. In particular, Steve feels awkward about what to say around Jared and he hates it. It feels like Christian's animosity toward the Sasquatch has rubbed off on him. But really, Steve feels awkward that he doesn't know how much Jared knows, how much Jensen might have told Jared or how much Jared might have overheard that night. And not only does Steve worry that Jared has a big mouth, but he worries because he knows Christian would never have consented to Jared knowing the things Jared already knows. 

Once the other guys arrive though, it should be fine he thinks. And until then, he'll focus on perfecting his free-throw shot. 

"Hey guys," Steve calls out as he steps onto the court. 

Jared throws him the ball in greeting and Steve dribbles over near the basket and practices shooting. He misses, of course. He's not the best basketball player, and he is shorter than practically everyone else, something no one lets him forget. 

"Awww," Jared groans teasingly at the missed shot. "So close," Jared says as he's running after the ball. 

"Steve, how are ya?" Jensen asks, walking over. 

Steve shrugs, not really wanting to talk about it and definitely not wanting to talk around Jared again even if Jared is across the court. When he looks at Jensen again though, his friend looks kinda guilty himself. 

"What?" Steve asks confused, dreading what Jensen might say. 

Jensen jerks his head toward the small set of bleachers where they all put their keys and other stuff. But when Steve looks over the stands aren't empty like they usually are. Misha's sitting there. 

"Wha...?" Steve questions. 

"He wanted to talk to you," Jensen says with a sheepish expression though he shrugs at the same time like it's not a big deal. 

"What does he know?" Steve asks. 

Jensen shrugs again and then nods at the other guys coming over, Jason and Tom and Mike. Warily, Steve walks with Jensen over to the bleachers to greet them. 

"There's a lot of gossip, of course," Jensen says just before they get there. 

Steve scowls but he can't say anything else in front of everyone. The guys all greet one another so Steve isn't really paying attention as Misha stands and comes over. 

They're waiting for Jason to change from his normal flip flops into his tennis shoes so Steve has no choice but to greet Misha as the other teen gets to them. 

"Hey," Misha says quiet and hesitant. 

It's strange to see because Misha's never really awkward. He just does what he wants and owns it with no apologies. So now Steve is really nervous about where this conversation is headed. 

"Hey," Steve answers stupidly. 

Misha takes another step closer, blue eyes intense and sympathetic, and Steve suddenly doesn't even want to hear what the other teen has to say. 

"I heard about Christian," Misha continues. 

Fuck, Steve curses to himself. "What did you hear?" Steve asks trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels because it’s not really Misha he’s annoyed at. 

"That Christian left," Misha answers. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Steve scowls but tries to disguise the expression immediately. Is Misha trying to get back with him just because Christian's gone? Like Christian was never here?

"I'm fine," Steve says with a shrug, trying not to give anything away. 

Misha's eyes narrow like he's caught onto the fact that he's being brushed off. "Look, I'm just gonna watch the game and hopefully we can talk later. I just wanted to say…at the party, I didn't mean to," Misha actually looks guilty which is even more surprising to Steve. 

"It’s ok," Steve reassures. “Yeah, we’ll talk later,” he agrees reluctantly. 

He doesn't want to be a dick to Misha. Steve did, does care about Misha. It was all Steve's fault for thinking bringing Christian to a party with alcohol and drunk high school-ers was a good idea. 

The rest of the guys are already on the court by the time Steve turns away from Misha, and they've already decided on the teams and direct Steve to his side to play with Jared and Mike. 

Steve has a lot of fun, playing basketball, and running away joking with his friends. He actually wishes that they could play longer but they're all tired and hungry and it's dark so they pack it in. They always eat dinner at Jason’s whose house is actually near these courts. 

“Pepperoni?” Jason calls out as he starts to walk to his car. 

It’s really the only kinda pizza all six of them can agree on. Course Steve knows that Misha doesn’t like it because it makes the pizza greasy. But Misha doesn’t say anything to object. Misha instead comes after him as he heads toward his car. 

"Steve?" Misha calls. "Hey, can I catch a ride with you?"

Steve stops and can't help but look around for Jensen who is surely the ride Misha came with. But Jensen and Jared are already in Jensen's Honda pulling out. Steve’s kinda pissed that this is obviously a set-up for them to talk in private. 

"Sure," Steve says, trying to pretend he's not upset. Misha hasn't developed a new interest in watching amateur basketball obviously. 

As usual Misha's hand immediately reaches for the radio as soon as Steve starts the car, but this time Misha turns the music totally off. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened at the party, all of it. I shouldn't have given him alcohol when he was so upset..."

"No, it's my fault,” Steve reiterates. “I shouldn't have brought him to that party at all. I was stupid," Steve berates himself.  
"I'm sorry for accusing you too," Misha continues hesitantly. 

Steve doesn't know what to say to that so he just shrugs and concentrates on the road. He shouldn’t have let Christian cuddle up to him like that, but he has no idea how he could have stopped it without hurting Christian more. 

Misha huffs a sigh. "Aren't we friends anymore?" he asks. 

It's a loaded question but there's only one good answer. "Course," Steve answers. 

"Well, you just never said anything about him. Suddenly he's living in your house and now he's gone," Misha says sounding confused and a little hurt.

Misha obviously expects Steve to start explaining now but Steve can't. "I can't betray his confidence," he says, pleading for understanding. 

Misha looks really hurt now. "I wouldn't ask you to. But if we’re friends, shouldn’t we talk? Particularly about things that are important to you?”

Steve feels chastened by Misha’s words. However, he can’t help thinking that they broke up basically because Steve couldn’t share his passions with Misha. But he knows Misha has a good point that applies to all of his friends. 

Misha continues speaking then. “It’s kinda odd that you just made friends with a homeless kid. I didn’t think you volunteered anywhere or were that interested in charity?" Misha asks.

"He’s not a charity case I met while volunteering," Steve tries, struggling to explain how he got it into his head that he was going to help the guy no matter what. "I saw him in the park and he was so drawn to the music that I had to know him. He didn’t feel like a random homeless person that you feel sorry for and wish that someone would do something. I felt like we knew each other through the music. I still want to help him," Steve answers the unasked question of whether Christian is still in the picture. 

Misha smiles, like he knows something Steve doesn’t, like he’s happy for a reason Steve wouldn’t understand. “So you convinced your parents to take him in?”

“Umm, well…” Steve starts, confused as to how to explain the circumstances that led to his mom agreeing to let Christian stay at their house. “Christian needed help, and my mom saw that he was a good guy. Christian helped these kids who were homeless too,” Steve shrugs, not knowing how to continue. 

“That was really nice of you,” Misha says seriously. “Really nice of your mom too. I imagine Christian has a few problems.”  
Steve frowns, thinking about whether that was meant as an insult to Christian when Misha jumps in again. “From his behavior at the party,” Misha tries to explain. “After living on the streets and stuff.”

Steve lets it go, knowing that Misha doesn’t mean the words as a judgment. “Yeah, he needs some help and I hate not being there to know if he’s getting help now.” 

“Where did he go?” Misha asks.

"His mom came to get him, took him back to Oklahoma where they're from," Steve says giving the barest bones account he can. 

"That’s tough,” Misha says sympathetically. But then he’s quiet like even Misha doesn’t know what to say about this predicament.

Steve feels guilty and uncomfortable talking about his feelings for Christian with Misha. Being friends with your ex isn't really as easy as it sounds. 

"Yeah, he just doesn't deserve..." Steve trails off stupidly. 

But Misha nods like he understands and when he speaks, it sounds almost as if the other teen is talking mostly to himself. "Living on the streets, running away from home, going back to...god knows what. I just...I'm sorry. And I want to help too."

Steve doesn't know if Misha means help him or help Christian. Steve just decides to assume it’s the latter. “There’s not a lot anyone can do for him right now.”

“Anything I can do for you?” Misha asks and Steve can’t tell if Misha meant that the way that it sounded. 

“No, I just want to be there for him right now,” Steve confesses. “But I can’t.”

They’re both quiet, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable. Steve knows it’s all his fault, he went about this whole thing the wrong way he’s sure, though he can’t quite think how he would have done things differently with Misha. 

Fortunately they're then pulling up to Jason's house. Steve hopes the pizza's there already because he's hungry. But Misha grabs his arm before they enter the house, forcing Steve to turn and meet blue eyes. 

“Just…talk to me,” Misha sounds practically pleading. “I want to be friends, Steve. I like hanging out with you. And my mom volunteers at the free clinic, you know, if Christian needs services or support, she knows all the best places.”

“I like being friends with you too,” Steve assures Misha. “And thanks for the offer. If Christian is ever back in LA, I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a smile, Misha starts walking again, walking in the door in front of Steve. Jason's Dad is home and in the kitchen when Steve and Misha walk in. 

"Hey kids," Jason’s Dad says, putting down the slice of pizza he was eating at the counter and wiping his hands on a paper towel. "Pizza's here."

"Thanks," Steve smiles and leads Misha to the door to the basement. But Steve can't help wondering if even Jason's Dad knows about the whole thing with Christian. 

Downstairs, Steve motions for Misha to grab a couple slices first, and then he can hear Tom and Mike upstairs. He grabs his own slices quickly before they get down there. 

Misha sits on the couch next to the J's and Steve sits next to him. Steve isn’t sure if Misha is flirting a little or whether that’s all in his head, but overall it’s nice. It’s fun for all four of them to hang together again, fun to hear Misha’s crazy monologues again. Though he wishes Jared wouldn’t egg Misha on. 

Steve practically forgets that he was worried earlier. He wanted to have some fun with his friends, wanted a break from worrying about Christian, and that's what he gets. Besides that Jensen throws a few pointed looks between Steve and Misha which Steve ignores. 

Unfortunately then Tom and Mike get downstairs, attacking the pizza immediately. They wander over towards the tv when they see the seating arrangement. 

“Hey,” Mike says with his mouth full. “Didn’t you two break up?”

The silence that follows is palpable in the room, but Steve rushes to try to get his tongue working again to answer. 

“N-no,” he replies, coughing as pizza sauce goes down his windpipe. 

Mike looks at them strangely but then Jason throws a DVD box at Mike, distracting him. Mike immediately starts complaining about the movie and Tom wanders off to get some Cokes. 

But Steve definitely notices that Misha didn’t say anything. 

All in all though, it's a good night. Steve is tired but relaxed and full by the time he leaves. Tired and relaxed enough to get a really good night's sleep.

***

The next morning, Christian jerks awake from a nightmare before the sun has even risen, a nightmare that has him needing to get out of bed, needing to turn on the lights. He feels panicked and sweaty and dirty. He feels exactly like he’d been with Jeff the night before. 

He has to get up, get out, do something. For once, he’s glad to be at home because there’s a shower where he can to try to scrub off the dirt that seems tangible at that moment, covering him. Quietly, he opens his bedroom door and sneaks into the bathroom. There’s no quieting the sound of the shower running, but nobody gets up, nobody knocks on the door wondering what he's doing up and making noise at this hour. 

In the shower, he hunches his shoulders, bows his head, painfully aware of his nudity, of the hot water beating down on his naked skin. But no matter how hard he scrubs himself with Jenny’s loofah, he can’t get rid of the itch beneath his skin, like his very blood is poison in his veins, seeping out of his pores. 

When he felt like this in LA, anxious and hyper and frustrated and needy, he’d just go find a guy, any guy to make these feelings go away however briefly. He’s suddenly really tempted to just leave, run away from his mother’s concern and disappointment.

His hand brushes past his limp dick hesitantly before he takes it in hand, pulling his dick almost frantically, wanting any kind of release. For a minute nothing happens, his dick stays limp despite his desperation, until he starts imagining, fantasizing about the sex that he desperately wants. 

His dick lengthens in his hand and he rubs his thumb along the head. The man’s huge hand is on his ass squeezing hard enough to bruise. His hips thrust forward into his hand, his breath heavier now. He’s held down, crushed onto the dirty sheet over rocky ground as he’s entered with only spit as lube, the pain causing him to kick out his legs. God, he wants to come, needs to come. He speeds up his hand, concentrating on the head as he braces his other hand on the shower wall. He’s on a plush bed crushed underneath Jeff’s weight, every hard thrust nailing his prostate, and then a huge rough hand is on his hard dick, pulling, pulling until he comes…  
Christian’s coming hard as he fantasizes about Jeff fucking him, hot cum washed away instantly by cold water. But his need is washed away just as quickly, leaving only the gut-churning, heart-wrenchingly cold pain of shame behind. 

Christian stumbles out, pushing aside the shower curtain and falling hard on his knees in front of the toilet, his stomach heaving. But there’s nothing to come up, and he ends up shaking and exhausted and sweating despite the water cooling on his skin. 

Shakily, he stands up, leaning on the sink counter and taking deep breaths. He ought to be used to it by now, ought to just accept that he’s pathetic, a pathetic slut who can’t get off without at least thinking of being fucked by some guy. He wipes his face with a hand before reaching for his toothbrush, determined not to cry again. 

When he’s done, he still doesn’t hear any movement from his momma’s room so he puts on his new clothes, jeans and tshirt and socks, and goes out into the family room. He can’t stand the thought of going back to bed with the heavy feeling of a rock in his chest. He knows he should probably read a book quietly, but he can’t zone out on a book the way he can watching tv so he takes the chance.  
Turning the sound down very low, he sits on the floor right in front of it to hear some random news show. And still, no one comes out. 

He momentarily wonders what his momma'll think when she does wake up and finds him there. But in the end, he’s willing to risk her reaction for having the tv to distract him. He just doesn’t want to think about himself or Jeff or LA or anything for a while. A long while. 

It’s a couple hours later, after he’s changed the channel to an old episode of Law and Order that he hears her moving around, hears the water running in the master bath and the toilet flush. He gets up and sits on the couch before she comes out, glancing up as she appears in the doorway. But she doesn’t seem to be upset at seeing him awake and watching television.

Instead she simply looks at him with surprise and asks, "You couldn't sleep, hon?"

He just shakes his head ‘no’, thankful for whatever leniency he can get. Back before he ran away, she'd have told him to at least 'lie down and close his eyes' so that he'd be ready for school or whatever the next morning. Now there’s really nothing that he needs to be rested for. He’s just useless. 

His momma sighs and comes over to the couch to pet his hair for a second. The affection makes him feel even more guilty about how pathetic he is. He shouldn’t need his momma’s sympathy. He should be a man. 

She's about to walk away toward the kitchen when he asks quietly, "Can I turn it up a little? Or will it wake Jenny, you think?"  
"It should be fine, sweetie. She needs to get up in a minute anyway for breakfast. Did you want anything in particular?" she asks.  
"No, ma'am," he answers, not meeting her eyes after but turning up the volume a little, still wary of being too loud. 

He can hear the sounds of her making breakfast when Jenny comes out of her room not long after, still looking sleepy as she heads for the bathroom in her pajama pants and tshirt. Confused, she stops to stare at what he's watching on tv but she doesn't say anything. 

Jenny's taken her shower and gone back into her room by the time breakfast is ready and his momma asks him to knock on her door to tell her. He does as asked, but doesn’t wait for an answer before going to sit at the table. He sips on his orange juice as he looks over what she's made, scrambled eggs with cheese and home fries out of the freezer section that he normally loves. 

The sight of eggs doesn’t make him feel any better this morning though, cramping his stomach and making him feel out of control. He doesn't want to eat this morning. He tries to move the food around his plate to disguise that he's not eating and brings a couple of bites of single potato squares to his mouth, but his momma isn't in the mood today to let it slide. 

"Chris, you have to eat. This isn't healthy. Is it your stomach? Your stomach might not be used to this kinda food," she suggests though it looks like it pains her to mention it. "What did you eat at the Carlson's house?"

That's not a question he wants to answer. If he had a hard time hiding his discomfort at Steve's house, it's a million times worse now, with his momma's disappointed face staring at him and the memories on his thoughts and the fear of the police coming. 

"I'm just not hungry," Christian mumbles. "It's good."

"Christian," his momma starts more firmly. "It's not normal for you not to be hungry with how little you're eating. Maybe we should take you back to the doctor."

"No," Christian starts, but he doesn't know what to say to convince her. Because he isn’t fucking normal. 

But then there's a knock at the door. A knock that sets them all on edge after the last visitor they had was a police officer. And Christian still expects to see Jeff show up at any time. 

He watches his momma stand up from the table with wide frightened eyes, eyes that briefly meet the eyes of his sister but he quickly looks away, not wanting her to see how frightened he is. But when the door opens to reveal David, he doesn’t know what to think. 

"David," his momma says, sounding surprised but cheerful. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm good, ma'am," David replies. 

David's voice is deeper. It seems an odd thing to focus on, the differences between the David two years ago and the David now that didn't seem so important in LA when a million other things were happening. David's taller than Christian's momma now too. 

"Come in, come in," he hears her say. "Chris," she calls out like he couldn't hear her from the kitchen. "David's here."

Then she speaks back to David. "Come have a seat on the couch. Do you want something to drink or eat? Have you had breakfast?"  
His momma is moving into the kitchen before David even answers. "I'm fine, ma'am," he says indulgently. 

She gives Christian a glare as she grabs another glass of juice for their guest. "Come and speak to your guest, Chris," she whispers firmly.

Obediently, Christian gets up and follows her over to the couch, taking a seat on the other side reluctantly. He doesn’t look David in the eye, but the other teen’s attention seems entirely on his mom.

"Have at least a glass of juice," his momma says to David as she places the glass down on a coaster on the coffee table. "When did you get back home?"

David is polite as he thanks her for the juice then answers, "Late last night."

"Oh, you must still be tired," she comments.

"Not really, but I can take a nap later if I need to," he answers with a charming smile. 

"Well, it's really good to see you. It's been a while," she says with an air of nostalgia. "I'll leave you two to catch up and clean up the dishes. But just tell me if you'd like something to eat. Either of you," she finishes pointedly. 

Christian has no idea what to do now that they're alone, especially because his momma is actually listening to everything he says.  
Christian can barely look at David and it seems like David can barely look at him either. They're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, so far away from each other that it seems to accentuate the gulf between them now. 

But why wouldn't David be awkward, Christian asks himself. David knows because Christian's momma told him, told all three of them.  
"How's it being back home?" David asks, his voice quiet and noncombative and so unlike David. 

David’s not quiet or hesitant. He’s not supposed to be concerned about Christian. 

Christian’s first reaction is simply to shrug in answer, but he knows his momma’s listening. “It’s fine,” he says instead. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. 

David nods and clasps his hands together, leans forward on his knees. He obviously has no idea what to say now. It’s not like they’re going to go out and play ball like they used to, not like David is going to invite him over like before. Nothing is like it was before. 

“And you’re feeling alright?” David asks awkwardly, like he’d rather not mention it. “After the hospital…and everything?”

“You don’t have to be here,” Christian blurts out. “You got me back here. Mission accomplished. Now you can just go.”

David’s brow furrows and he just looks confused at Christian's snappy answer. "What're you talking about?"

"You don’t want to be here," Christian says, his voice getting louder as he lets out his anger. “It’s obvious, so you don’t have to be here. Just go home!” 

"I just wanted to see if you were ok.” Sitting up, David defends himself, getting a little upset. “Because I’m your friend."

"Right," Christian says sarcastically with a scowl. "Great friend. The police came to our house!" Christian's practically yelling now and not caring. "But you'd know, she told you!"

"Christian Kane!" his momma comes around the couch. "Stop yelling."

But Christian can't stop, won't stop, everything seems to just come pouring out. "What?! Nobody wants to talk about it even though we're all thinking it. You don't want to hang out with a slut! The stupid slut who let the Coach fuck him!"

"Christian, stop this right now!" his momma starts to yell herself even as David’s trying to respond to Christian’s tirade. 

“That’s not true!” David shouts back, angry himself now. “I went all the way to…”

"You should have just left me alone!" Christian yells and without thinking, grabs the puppy figurine from the coffee table and throws it at the wall. The figurine that he gave his momma years ago for her birthday, now shattered into tiny shards on the living room carpet. 

Everyone stops still in shocked horror at the crash, even Christian. But it’s Christian who recovers first, and takes off running into his room, slamming the door behind him and locking it. 

"Aaaaaahhh!" he screams out to the empty small room, even as he sinks down to sit on the floor. He can't hear anything from the living room and he doesn't listen for it. He's so angry and frustrated that all he can hear is the sound of his wildly beating heart. 

He’s so mad, at everything. Enraged, he lunges forward on his knees and grabs at the books on his bookshelf, knocking half of them off but getting his hands on one. He rips it apart, starting with the paperback's front cover and then tearing through half the book's pages before he throws it away and just starts to cry. 

***

Steve is just hanging out watching some Law and Order reruns when his cellphone rings. Leaning over to get it from the coffee table, Steve's surprised to see that it's David. He’d put off calling Christian today hoping that David would get there and call him first. But in the back of his mind, Steve didn’t think that David would really call him. 

Turning down the volume, Steve answers with a hesitant, "Hello."

"Hey, Steve," David's voice comes across the line, confident verging on cocky just as before. It grates on Steve and the other teen has barely said anything. 

"Hey, you made it back to Oklahoma," Steve states the obvious, not wanting to sound rude by immediately asking after Christian. 

"Yep, I didn't drop off the Earth along the way,” David responds sarcastically. “I got back late last night and went to see Chris this morning.” 

"How is he?" Steve asks since David seems to have abandoned all pretense of niceties. 

"He's...not great. He's upset," David admits, seeming reluctant. "Seems like the police are involved."

"What?!" Steve snaps in shock. "About him running away?"

"No," David says the word like Steve is the stupidest person on earth. "Because of what the Coach did."

Steve is silent. He doesn't know why that didn't occur to him. He supposes he assumed that Christian's mother wouldn't want that kinda attention no matter what had happened. 

Like a mind-reader, David continues, "But I don’t think it was his mom called the police. Maybe the welfare woman in LA did or the hospital staff.” 

"So what's happening?" Steve demands. 

"The police are investigating,” David says, stating the obvious again. “They're interviewing people, all the wrestlers Coach Morgan ever coached practically. Including me."

"Have you spoken to them yet? Have they spoken to Christian yet?" Steve frantically queries further. 

"I think they spoke to Chris already," David says. "But I haven't spoken to them yet. I heard from other guys that they, of course, don't say what it is they want to talk about, don't mention Chris's name, but everyone knows anyway. Chris just came back and suddenly all the wrestlers need to be interviewed, and Coach Morgan. Actually I heard the coach's been interviewed already too. People saw the police at his house.” 

"People know?!" Steve cries, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. “Everybody knows what happened to Christian already?”

"Well, people are talking. It's a small town, which I guess you wouldn't know much about," David digs at him again. "My parents aren't too happy about it."

"About what?" Steve asks, indignantly. 

"Well, people are saying all kinds of things, that Chris is making it up so he won't get in trouble for the fight," David says vaguely, like he might actually feel bad for Christian that his own parents are talking about it. 

"What fight?" Steve asks. 

"You know, the fight between Chris and the older wrestler on the day Chris ran away," David explains. 

"Why don't you just start over with that story," Steve tries, feeling like David is annoying him on purpose. 

"The day that Chris ran away,” David starts with a frustrated sigh, “he went to see an older guy, Michael at the university here in town, right? Well, Michael was a wrestler at our high school. In fact, Michael was Coach Morgan's favorite right before Chris became the Coach’s favorite."

"So why did Chris beat him up?" Steve asks. 

"I don't know,” David says like it doesn’t even matter. If Steve could get his hand through the phone, he’d slap the other teen. “Chris wasn't really in the mood to talk about it today. But I heard that when Michael went to the hospital..."

"Chris sent him to the hospital?!" Steve cries. 

"Yeah," David says calmly. "But they just wanted to check Michael out. Chris got a good crack across the kid's face. Anyway, I heard that they found that Michael had been cutting himself. Said it was actually lucky that Chris sent him to the hospital before he killed himself. And now he's gettin’ help for it."

"Do you think Michael was abused too?" Steve asks. 

"I..." David trails off thoughtfully. "It makes sense, don't it? And after Chris left, Coach got a new favorite as usual, some kid named Riley. I've only seen him around."

"Oh God," Steve breathes. "Does Christian know?"

"No, I haven't told him. I don't know, they say that these guys, you know pedophiles, have tons of victims that never come forward," David surmises. 

"Fuck," Steve curses. “You think there’ll be a trial?”

"I don't know," David answers, honestly. "I mean, it's really hard to prove this kinda thing, right? All they've got is Chris's word, not like anybody saw Coach Morgan mess with him or anything."

"I guess,” Steve says, not knowing whether it would be better or worse for there to be a trial. "But then the Coach could...mess with Christian again."

"I don't think the Coach would seek out Chris. That'd be stupid, he wouldn't," David rambles sounding like he's trying to convince himself. 

Steve thinks that raping a kid isn't exactly smart but then this Coach is basically getting away with that. "Are you gonna see Christian again?"

"Yeah...I want to," David says like he's about to come up with an excuse. "I'll talk to his mom about me coming over again. I don't  
want to upset him," David obfuscates. 

It sounds like a total cop out to Steve. "Well, please, tell me if anything else happens, if you talk to the police or see him again or hear anything else. Please," Steve is practically begging this asshole. 

"Sure," David says. "I don't know how close y'all were, but you seem to care about him."

"I'm his friend. Maybe I haven't known him for years but I care what happens to him," Steve says adamantly. 

"Ok, man," David defers. "Guess I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, later," Steve sighs before ending the call. 

"Fuck," he curses out loud this time. Thankfully he's alone in the house, his mom running errands and his Dad at work. 

He can barely believe it. Things are actually worse than he thought they were for Christian. The police are fucking involved! He guesses that he should have been expecting it, but he wasn’t. It is a crime, even though a trial seems like just more punishment for Christian. But what if there's been another victim since? How would Christian feel? After all he did to protect the kids in the park…

And why didn't Christian tell him?! Christian didn’t say a fucking word about the police being involved and Steve has spoken to him every day. They probably chatted about nothing the same damn Christian was interviewed! It's insane to think about. 

He knows he shouldn't be mad at Christian, but he is. Christian apparently can't trust him, can't trust anybody because of what was done to him. But Steve can understand that intellectually, not viscerally. Knowing it doesn’t stop him from being hurt. Being angry at Christian won't help either of them, though. Christian needs his support and that’s the only way for Christian to learn to trust. 

Steve really just fucking wants to be there! He doesn't want to rely on that asshole, David, to give him reports, doesn't want to rely on Christian being able to open up to him. It's not like Christian opened up to him while he was in Steve's house, not about the abuse at least. Steve just still clings to the idea that Christian did open up to him some, about things like the music that maybe Christian hadn't ever shared with anyone. 

Steve knows he can't be there in Norman. He still thinks that Christian would be better off if he came back to LA. Christian isn't in high school so that's not an issue. And LA surely has more and better resources for Christian, counseling and groups and crisis centers. Surely. 

Things would be better for Christian if he came back. His mom's a waitress. She could get that kinda job in LA easy. Though, Steve reconsiders, she wouldn't really have to come with him. Christian didn't want to tell her about the abuse and ran away from her.  
Christian didn't want to go back with her. Maybe she could be persuaded to let Christian come back to LA and stay with them. 

Yeah, Steve thinks. He gets up off the couch and goes into his bedroom to boot up the laptop on his desk. He could get Christian a part time job, find a counselor and group therapy, a GED course so Christian wouldn't have to go back to school. And while he's at it, maybe he'll look up some things for Christian's mom too before he goes to work at two.

***

Christian is too embarrassed to come out of his room even an hour later. He simply lies in his bed, listening to the goings on outside of his room now, mostly footsteps and the tv being on. He's picked up all the pieces of the book he demolished and threw them away. Now he's got one less to read as he sits in here too afraid to leave. And he’s got one less friend to visit.

Eventually there's a knock at his door. He knows it's gotta be his momma, who else would it be? He undoubtedly scared David away for good and Jenny's barely said five words to him since he came home. 

He doesn't want to answer but he certainly knows that he has to. "Coming," he mumbles as he gets off the bed and goes to the door.  
He feels sheepish just unlocking the door, embarrassed that he had done that. He pulls it open to see his momma looking serious and disappointed. 

"Yes, ma’am," Christian says, his voice coming out like a croak. 

"Can I come in?" she asks, like he has a choice. "So we can talk."

"Sure," he says pushing the door open and stepping back. He stands there awkwardly as she closes the door behind them and sits down at his desk, gesturing for him to sit on the bed. 

"Chris, you can’t keep acting like this. You cannot yell at other people. And you cannot throw things like that."

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, chastened, lowering his head. 

"Chris, I really think you need to talk to someone,” she continues the lecture. “Tomorrow we have the appointment with a counselor, that was the earliest they had available, but maybe you should call the crisis hotline that the advocates talked about. I’m sure they can help so you’re not so angry.”

The tears start to fall before she's finished speaking, and crying in front of her just makes him feel more ashamed. She has every right to be disappointed in him, to be angry with him. He acted like a two year old, destroyed something that was important to him, that he gave to her. But it's not just today, he's ruined everything for her by what he did with Jeff. And she thinks a phone call is going to help.

Angrily he wipes at his face, mumbling, "I'm sorry." It’s an apology for any number of things. 

"You can talk to me, honey," she offers but he can hear the emotion and disappointment in her voice. He doesn't want to talk to her. He’s supposed to be a man not a victim. She would hate him if she knew everything. 

He just shakes his head vehemently even as he’s trying to hide his face and the tears he can’t stop. He’s not at all expecting his momma’s hand on his shoulder and he jerks away with a little noise of surprise and fear. She’s kneeling right beside the bed where he’s sitting. 

“It’s ok to cry,” she says and it sounds so sincere. “Why are you upset?”

He has to say something even though his voice comes out hitching in sobs. “I-I’m sorry, for the…figur-rine.”

“Oh, honey. It’s ok. I’ll miss it, but I’m not mad at you. Maybe we’ll get another someday,” she says her voice calmly.  
But he just shakes his head again because she should be mad. 

After a long moment of silence, she gives up and stands. “Do you want anything to eat? Or do you want the phone?”

“No,” he says, knowing that his answer will disappoint her further. He doesn’t want to speak to a counselor. He doesn’t need a counselor. 

As soon as she leaves, he’s grabbing one of those stupid books at random to read in bed, trying to think for a while. 

It's only been about thirty minutes when there's a knock at his bedroom door again. He's only read five pages and couldn’t say what those five pages were about. 

Wearily, he drags himself off the bed and over to the door. Maybe she's angry now that she's thought about it more. 

"Steve's on the phone for you," she says as soon as he opens the door. 

Hesitantly, he takes the phone. He really doesn't want to talk to Steve now, not today. He doesn't understand Steve's niceness and he's not in the mood for it, not when he so clearly knows that he doesn't deserve it. 

"Steve?" it comes out as a question. 

"Christian," Steve says with relief as he does every day. "Hey, how are you?"

"Umm, I'm kinda tired today..." Christian tries to make an excuse but Steve interrupts. 

"You didn't sleep well? Is anything wrong?" Steve can't help asking, can't help the worry in his voice at the suggestion that something’s wrong. 

"No, I'm fine," Christian says, lamely. “Just tired.” 

"Really?" Steve questions, trying to make his voice calm and not accusatory as he attempts to broach the subject. "Are you upset about something? It's ok for you to be upset."

"I'm not upset," Christian says a little too harshly, tired of everyone telling him that. 

"I heard that the police are investigating your coach," Steve says bluntly, figuring the best way to say it is just to say it. 

Christian chokes on his own saliva in surprise. "How?" he questions sharply. 

"I…heard. I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry this has happened. And if you wanna talk about it..."

"No," Christian cuts him off. "I don't want to talk about it."

Then Christian hangs up. 

"Fuck," Steve cries to the empty line. That went as badly as it could possibly have gone, he thinks. 

He doesn't know how else he could have said it though. He had no ideas for how to subtly bring it up or get Christian to mention it first. 

Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. After all, what he wants is to make Christian feel better and if talking about the abuse or the police makes Christian feel worse, then he shouldn't do it. Surely Christian's mom is getting him a therapist where he can talk about those things. He makes a mental note to ask David about it. At the moment, he's kinda glad David is there to be the bad guy and get the dirty details instead of himself. 

He didn't even get to mention his plan for Christian to come back to LA. Surely that would have cheered Christian up, but Christian was too upset from the beginning of the conversation. Steve should have realized that it wasn’t the right time to mention the police. 

Some of his research said that friends and family should go to therapy too, to understand how to support the victim. He wonders if he could go to a therapist here even though Christian's in Oklahoma right now. Because the internet is not giving him any real advice on what to say and how to act. 

Annoyed at himself and the world, he gets his bag to go to work. He's got the two til six shift with Jason. Grabbing a bag of chips and a Diet Coke to take with him, he heads out the door. 

At work though, he's still annoyed with everyone, even snapping at Jason. The generally mildly annoying usual stupid questions from customers now make him want to scream. 

One guy asks him, “Where can I find Pink Floyd?”

It takes everything in Steve not to scream, “In the Ps for shit's sake!” 

Jason's definitely giving him stern looks, but Jason doesn't ask. He kinda hates it, hates that his friends have suddenly stopped asking him what's wrong because it's undoubtedly about Christian and he can't talk about Christian. Which isn't really true, he just can't reveal things about Christian. But it's hard to talk about what's bothering him without revealing anything about Christian!

The store’s actually fairly busy too. This shift usually is the busiest since it's when summer school gets out and people are stopping by on their way home from work. But in a lull, Steve takes the time to say something. 

"Man, I am sorry," he apologizes. 

He's not surprised when Jason only reacts with a shrug, saying, “It's cool.” 

Steve nods, acknowledging his friend’s acceptance. "Christian hung up on me," he blurts out. 

Jason makes a stung face in sympathy. "Ouch. I’m sure he'll get over it. He’s bound to have bad days when he’s just upset."  
Steve almost laughs, remembering how upset Christian when Steve pointed out that Christian was upset. 

"Just don't tell him that he's upset," Steve quips. “That seems to make him angry,” and Jason laughs and that's the end of it. Steve feels better for having told someone. 

Steve can't wait to go home at six though. He hasn't given up on the idea of Christian moving back to California just because Christian hung up on him one time. Christian is understandably angry with Steve knowing things Christian didn’t tell him, but he believes that Christian cares about him too. All those times that Christian laughed and smiled and sang with him, that kiss in the kitchen, surely Christian hasn’t just forgot about those because he’s miles away.

His momma is making dinner as he gets home and his Dad is watching tv. So Steve puts his bag in his room and comes to sit on the couch with his Dad until it's ready. 

He even waits for his parents to serve their food before he brings his plan up. 

"Hey," he starts talking, food untouched on his plate in his excitement. "David called today."

"That's great," his mom responds. "See I told you he would."

He lifts his eyes to the ceiling in annoyance before continuing. "Yeah, well, he said that the police were investigating Christian's coach."

He pauses waiting with bated breath for their response but it's not as surprised as his own was. His mom sighs and shares at look with his Dad before turning back to Steve. 

"I was afraid of that,” she says resigned. “Unfortunately Christian has to face this. Maybe it’ll even help him to deal with it. We can only hope that they get some kind of closure."

"David thinks they won't win," Steve asserts. 

His Dad pops in with his opinion then. "Maybe not, if it's only he said she said. After two years there probably isn't any physical evidence if there ever was."

"They're interviewing all the other wrestlers that guy coached too. David's going to be interviewed," Steve continues, trying to impress upon them the sense of urgency that he feels, trying to make them see that Christian can’t stay in that awful place. 

"It's very likely there's another victim," his Dad answers. "If there's more than one victim, maybe even a more recent victim, the odds of convicting the Coach are better."

"David says after Christian left, the coach zeroed in on some other kid," Steve shakes his head, unable to fathom this guy just hurting one kid after another. 

"It's horrible," his mom agrees. “It’s impossible to imagine how a person could do that.”

"Yeah, I was thinking, though, I don't know how long a trial might take or anything and I guess that Christian would have to be in Oklahoma until a trial is finished," Steve rambles, "But I was thinking that maybe Christian was right when he ran away, maybe it'll be better if he makes a fresh start. He could come back to LA."

"Honey,” his mom starts, in that tone of voice that says she’s about to rain all over his parade. 

"I mean, he didn't want to go back to Oklahoma anyway,” Steve interrupts her to plead his case further. “And there's nothing there for him. And there are way more resources here in LA.” 

"But Oklahoma is his home. He may want to stay with his mom and family there," his mother asserts. 

"Well, she could come too,” Steve compromises. “If he wants her to. I looked online and thought about where Christian could get a part time job and take classes for his GED..." 

His mom interrupts him this time. "Steve, I think you're getting ahead of yourself. He just got back to Oklahoma. He may not want to come back to LA where he used to live on the streets."

"But he said he had always wanted to come to LA, to be an actor," Steve defends. 

"It may be a while before he's ready to attempt that dream again," she explains. “If things work out with his family, and I really hope they do for his sake.”

"You just don't want him to come," Steve accuses her. "You never wanted me to get involved with him."

"I think you’ve gotten a little too involved and you’re not thinking about what best for Christian or yourself. Have you even asked Christian what he wants?" she says firmly. 

"Fine," Steve yells at her. "Then I'll move to him. You act like everybody else, like it's his fault that he's screwed up."

Standing up from the table, he cries, "I'll look up culinary schools there. I didn't want to stay in Cali anyway!"

With that, Steve runs into his room and slams the door angrily. He paces for a second before sitting down at his computer, determined to find a culinary school near Norman or, hell, he'll even just wait tables until Christian's ready to move somewhere there is a  
culinary school. 

It only takes a second though for Steve to give up. He’s too angry and frustrated to concentrate, and throws himself down on the bed. He just can’t imagine that Christian will give up his dream and stay in Oklahoma. Christian ran away from Oklahoma and even though he’s messed up right now, he’s not a quitter. He had been on the streets for two years taking care of himself and not doing drugs, until David came and reminded him of his past. 

But if Christian needs some time there with his family to sort himself out, Steve is serious about going to culinary school there.  
Eventually Steve comes out of his room and goes to the refrigerator to make himself another sandwich for dinner. His Dad is probably on the computer in the music room but his mom is on the couch reading. 

Still angry, Steve makes his sandwich without speaking to her. But he can't resist continuing the fight. He puts the sandwich and a glass of water in his bedroom before walking up the side of the couch. 

"I will ask him what he wants. And if he wants to stay in Oklahoma, then I want to go to culinary school there," he says tightly. 

HIs mom sighs. "That's your decision. But it's still a while off. Hopefully things will be looking better for Christian by then."

It still stings that she’s suddenly acting like she’s not sure Christian is going to get better, like she thinks that he’s not going to live his dream of being an actor. 

"It's not his fault. He needs help," Steve insists. 

"I know," she says. "He has to relearn a lot of things, particularly when it comes to sex and relationships."

Steve starts blushing immediately. He doesn't like his mom saying sex much less in regards to him and the guy he had sex with! But she just keeps going. 

"Right now he can't accept help,” she starts pessimistically. “He couldn't when he was in this house. He needs his mom to support him or he won't be able to recover. But you're right. He cared about those kids, he cared enough to try to take care of himself.  
But he can't just run back here, he has to face what sent him to LA."

Steve nods. He guesses that he understands, things get worse before they get better right? Frustrated, Steve goes to his room to eat his sandwich and then he has an idea. Getting on the internet to look up Cherokee designs, he gives Jensen a call. 

***

The next morning, Steve gets up early despite that he doesn't work til the afternoon. He has plans for the day but the first thing he does after eating some cereal is to give Christian a call. 

"Hello," a woman’s voice answers. Steve can recognize Christian's mom's voice after just this short time, and he smiles when he hears it. 

"Mrs. Kane," Steve responds. "Hi, how're you this morning?" 

He always tries to make a little small talk with her. He needs her to like him.

"We're all doing well so far today, Steve," she says and he's sure that he can hear a smile, or at least he can hear that she's not about to hang up on him. "Christian is just finishing some breakfast..." she trails off but then there's Christian's voice on the phone sounding breathless. 

"Steve?" Christian questions even though he knows who it is. 

He hurries back into his room, taking the excuse to skip most of breakfast. But once he's shut his bedroom door, he doesn't know what to say, not after yesterday. He's not sure he wants to apologize, but he's not sure he wants to lose Steve. 

"Steve, maybe we shouldn't..." he starts but Steve cuts him off. 

"Hey, just listen," Steve interrupts. Then he presses the button to put his phone on speaker and pulls his guitar into his lap. "Any requests today?" he asks. 

Christian has to smile in spite of himself and he sits down on his bed, content to let Steve play instead of them talking or fighting. Maybe Steve would be better off if Christian stopped taking Steve’s phone calls, if he made himself so obnoxious that Steve finally stopped calling but he can't bear to interrupt Steve when he’s playing. 

Steve starts with something different, something older and more folksy. "Do you recognize it?"

Christian lies down on his bed and closes his eyes to listen, but he can't say that he knows it. "No," he says. 

"Do you know Doc Watson?" Steve asks. His Dad introduced him to this music, said Doc Watson’s amazing on the guitar but it's not the music Steve normally favors. 

"I don't think so," Christian answers. "But it's nice." It sounds old-fashioned, something like what his Dad would listen to. 

But eventually it ends. "It's called 'Deep River Blues', probably his most famous song and the only one I know how to play."

Christian tries to remember if he’s heard of Doc Watson. Maybe he'll look the guy up, learn another of the guy’s songs to play for Steve eventually. His thoughts stop as Steve plays another song that Christian does remember though it's not really country or folk. 

"’Into the Mystic’," Christian says with a smile. He closes his eyes as Steve laughs and starts to sing just the main line, ‘into the mystic’. 

The next song, Steve sings the whole verse and it makes Christian laugh. He can't remember if he'd ever mentioned that he and his Dad used to love this song. 

"Rhinestone cowboy," Steve sings with a giant smile on his face. 

“That’ll be me,” Christian says with a smile. “One day. A rhinestone cowboy.”

“I thought you wanted to be an actor?” Steve questions lightly. 

“Yeah, but maybe I’ll sing too. Besides I’ll always be a cowboy even in fancy Hollywood,” Christian jokes. 

“That’s true,” Steve laughs. “I don’t see you being fake just to impress people.”

“Naw,” Christian agrees. “What’d be the fun in that? I wanna pretend onscreen, not all the time.”

Feeling awkward, Christian clears his throat. It's stupid to talk like he'll ever make it in Hollywood when he can't seem to hold it together for two seconds nowadays. Besides once he’s an actor all his secrets would come out and Christian has too many secrets.  
"Hey, weren't you writing a new song?" Christian changes the subject. 

"Yeah," Steve says more softly. “It's called 'Radio in My Head'.”

As usual, Steve plays it once through and then plays it again while singing. He'd actually started another song about Christian, but he doesn't think Christian ready to hear such sap. 

"Well, sounds like you don't need my help with that one," Christian says, impressed again by the other teen's talent. 

"I plan to have a bunch of songs ready for you to look over when I come to see you," Steve answers, broaching the subject of a visit as much as he dares. 

Christian sighs, but he doesn't want to fight with Steve about this. Hopefully he'll just put it off until Steve forgets about it, and him. 

Steve smiles on his end of the phone. He plans to have more than one surprise to show Christian by the time he comes to visit. 

"You have any plans today?" Steve asks. 

Christian hesitates, not knowing what to say or how much to say. All he knows is that right now, he doesn’t want to lose Steve. "I have an appointment...with a therapist."

"That's good," Steve says, trying not to sound too excited even though he is. It shows that Christian's mom is trying to help Christian. "Is this your first therapy appointment?"

"Yeah," Christian admits nonchalantly. "It's...whatever." Christian doesn't know what he started to say. He doesn't want to go to the appointment. It’s everyone else who thinks he can be fixed or something, like a defective piece of merchandise. He wants to stop talking about this shit. "What're you doing today?"

Steve smiles big before answering. "Oh, not a lot. I'm gonna have lunch with Jensen before I have to go to work myself."

Christian wonders if he wouldn't be better off if he had a job, something else to do with his time. But who would hire him in this town? It's like a prison and he's afraid to leave his house.

"Did you want me to tell Jensen hey for you?" Steve prompts not so subtly. He's never sure how far to push Christian. 

"Um, I guess," Christian agrees. 

"He still cares about you, Christian. He wants to see you again too. And Jason still wants to play with you sometimes," Steve pushes. 

"I don't know," Christian waffles. 

"Well, I'm coming to see you. We'll work out when, but sometime this summer. You can show me around your town," Steve says. 

"Yeah, sure," Christian says. 

But in his head, he's thinking about what the highlights of this tour would be, ‘There's the school where I met Jeff, and there's Jeff's house where we fucked...and there's David's house who hates me now’. As he should, Christian thinks. 

"Well, I have to go meet Jensen. Talk to you tomorrow," Steve says hopeful as he is every day that tomorrow Christian will take his call. 

"Sure," Christian answers. 

As soon as Christian hangs up the phone, Steve jumps up to shower and dress quickly, his long wet hair soaking the back of the v-neck grey tshirt he put on. He takes a minute to admire the tattoo on his right shoulder though. He still loves the way it looks. 

He gets to the coffee shop prepared to see Misha inside since Jensen told him that his ex would be there. Steve's still a little pissed at Jensen for setting him up like that, but he knows that he owed it to Misha to explain more. And Steve can't really be mad at Jensen for long, particularly now when Jensen's the only one he can talk to about Christian. Besides his parents, who just don't understand. 

Walking in, he can't see Jensen but he sees Misha behind the counter taking orders and he doesn't hesitate to go up. 

"Hey, what's up?" Misha asks with a bright smile. 

Maybe his smile’s too bright, Steve thinks suspiciously. He didn't want to lead Misha on before and he certainly doesn't want to now. "Not a lot. I came to pick Jensen up." 

Steve doesn't think about how that sounds until he says it. He came for Jensen not for Misha and he doesn't intend to invite Misha. Shit, this is awkward. 

And he can see answering awkwardness on Misha's face too. "Yeah. He's in the back, probably be out in a minute."

Steve nods and looks down. He certainly doesn't want to explain to Misha the reason he isn't extending an invitation is because he wants to talk about Christian. 

"How's Christian?" Misha asks. 

Steve kinda stares at him stunned for a second so Misha continues. "I just assumed you might’ve spoken to him today."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I did. He's...hanging in there, seems better today maybe," Steve bumbles out. 

What kind of answer is he supposed to give to that question, Steve wonders. Of course, Christian isn't ok, but if Steve says that then Misha would want to know what was wrong. And Steve's not even certain about what all has been going on with Christian in Oklahoma. 

"That's good," Misha says but he's looking down at the counter when he says it. "I hope he's getting the support that he needs."

Steve knows that Misha is being genuine. He does actually want these things for Christian. "Yeah, I hope so too."

Jensen comes out then thankfully. "Hey Steve," he says with a grin. 

"Hey," Steve answers. 

"Oh," Misha interjects. "Did you want anything to drink before you go?"

"No thanks," Steve answers. The last thing he needs right now is caffeine, or sugar. 

"I’ll see you at Jason’s on Friday?" Misha queries hopefully.

“Sure,” Steve says hesitantly, feeling like an ass no matter what he says. 

Steve hurriedly starts leading Jensen outside to the car. Steve means to ask Jensen what is going on with Misha, but Jensen distracts him. 

Putting a friendly arm half around Steve's shoulder, Jensen asks, "You sure you wanna do this?" 

"Yep," Steve says with a grin. "I just hope we can get away with it."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Well if it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

They leave Jensen's car at the coffee shop and both get into Steve's volvo. It's a fairly long drive, but Steve is excited to get there. 

"So how's Christian?" Jensen asks. 

"Ummm, I don’t know. Sounds like he’s not doing all that great," Steve replies. He's already told Jensen about the police investigation. "How would you feel if this happened to you? He said he's got a therapy today though. But he didn't seem excited about it."

"Is he supposed to be excited?" Jensen retorts. "He's told his mom, he's told the police, he probably doesn't want to talk about it anymore."

"Yeah," Steve agrees absently. "But I hope the therapist can help."

"It’s not a quick fix. And I’m sure Christian isn't going to immediately open up to some shrink," Jensen says with a small smile. 

"No, I bet not," Steve joins in on the teasing. "But even the hardest nut can be cracked."

It’s silent for a minute. Steve is about to ask what Jensen thinks therapy is like, when Jensen speaks first. 

“Jared’s gonna start helping to coach a church basketball team next week. He always says he feels stupid that we have all jobs and he doesn’t because he’s not sixteen. He can’t hang out at the coffee shop all the time,” Jensen says. 

It’s so out of the blue that it takes a minute for Steve to register what’s happening. But when he does it hits him like a sledgehammer. 

“Dammit,” Steve says, glancing over at his passenger. “I haven’t even asked about Jared lately. God, all we do is talk about Christian.”

Steve sees Jensen shrug out of the corner of his eye before his friend speaks again. “I know that you have to get out what you’re feeling about Christian, and I want to know whenever something happens, but…”

Jensen doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Steve to understand, loud and clear. “But I can’t forget you guys have lives too,” Steve berates himself. 

“Well, our lives certainly aren’t as dramatic as Christian’s, but…yeah, we do want to talk about our boring little lives every once in a while,” Jensen says teasing. 

“I’ll be better,” Steve blurts out. “I promise.” 

The conversation comes to a stop as they pull into the parking lot then, a strip mall hosting a subway and a petstore...and a tattoo parlor. 

It's the same tattoo parlor that Steve got his first tattoo from. This time he doesn't have a permission slip, but Jensen thinks that they can get by without a second one if they go back to the same place. 

The bells on the door jingle as they step inside. There's a small waiting area with chairs and several books of tattoo designs on metal coffee tables and then a small merchandise counter at the back where one checks in. On a weekday, there are only four people waiting, sitting in the chairs. 

Steve walks straight to the back, not needing to look through the books. "Hey," Steve says to the tattooed guy at the desk. "Is Danny here?"

"Yeah," the guy answers pleasantly enough. "He's with a client right now. You want to request that he do your tattoo?" the guy offers. 

"Yeah," Steve confirms. "He did my last one."

"Ok," the guy says looking over at the computer. "I'll put you down."

Steve gives his name and thanks the guy before following Jensen to a seat to wait.

In the end, they don't wait long. Thank God, Steve thinks. He's too antsy to wait, both because he's excited about the tattoo, but also because he's nervous about not having a permission slip. It would be embarrassing and disappointing to be sent away. 

Danny comes out to the front and Steve recognizes him and stands before the guy at the desk has even called his name. He’s got a shaved head with black tattoos over his skull, and a beautifully colored gypsy skull tattoo on his shoulder. 

"Steve," the desk guy calls. 

"Yeah, that's me," he says, Jensen trailing behind. 

Fortunately the tattoo guy seems to recognize him. "I've done you before right?" Danny asks. 

"Yeah," Steve says with a smile even as he turns and lifts his sleeve to show the tattoo there. 

“They all come back for more," Danny says with a wicked smile that twists the bar in his lip. "Well, let's go on back."

Steve glances back at Jensen, excited that they haven't been asked for ID so far. They enter a small curtained off area and Steve sits down in the chair. 

"I remember last time you were underage," Danny says conversationally as he sits on a stool. 

"Yeah," Steve says simply trying not to offer too much information. But Danny seems more concerned with getting out the ink. 

"So what did you have in mind?" Danny asks, looking at him. 

Steve pulls a printout out of his pocket. "It's a Cherokee design armband," he describes. 

Danny takes the paper and stares at it for a second. "Ok, this shouldn't be too hard. Might take a little while," he smiles back at them. "Be right back."

Danny takes the paper and stands up, leaving the curtained area. 

Jensen smiles and excitedly hits Steve in the arm as soon as Danny’s gone. Danny must assume that Steve turned eighteen since the last tattoo. 

When Danny comes back, they both attempt to stifle their enthusiasm so they don’t look suspicious. Danny now has a stencil that he shows them. 

"This look about right?" Danny asks. 

Steve looks it over quickly. "Yeah, that's it."

"Which arm?" Danny asks, getting right down to it

"Oh, the same one," Steve answers quickly, pulling up his right sleeve again.

Danny doesn't say anything about his choice but focuses on placing the stencil below the nautical star. He maneuvers Steve's arm around to get it all the way around. 

"Take a look in the mirror and see how it'll look," Danny orders. 

Steve does as the man says and he smiles wide as he looks at it. "Looks great," he says sitting back in the chair. 

"Ok," Danny says with his own smile. "Let's get started."

***

Christian’s calmer after his conversation with Steve. Music is a common ground that has nothing to do with all the other shit going on. Music takes him out of himself and his problems, makes him think of all the possibilities, of song-writing and playing to the roar of a crowd. And Steve plays it with emotion and passion. Christian can’t resist it. 

Plus his momma seems to be giving him a break today. Maybe she’s just still upset after yesterday and is ignoring him or maybe she’s leaving him alone now because of the therapy appointment later. But she doesn't try to nag him to eat more or anything. 

Jenny goes out in the afternoon, but Chris just watches tv fairly mindlessly after lunch until it’s time to get dressed to go. He meets his momma at the door with little prodding, not wanting to cause a fuss when it won’t do him any good. 

They’re quiet all the way there, to an office that’s nice, really nice and comfortable and the woman at the front desk is pleasant if serious. The whole place seems too nice, not like the house where he was interviewed that seemed lived in. This is like one of those homes where he can’t even sit on the furniture. 

But he’s quickly given some paperwork to fill out, without his momma this time, and ushered to an empty room decorated with two overstuffed chairs. Not knowing which chair is meant for the therapist, he just picks one. 

The questions are just...ridiculous, he thinks. Questions about his fears, how often he cries or gets angry, how often he has nightmares and even how often he thinks about sex. He doesn't know how to answer any of them. His first instinct is to lie, or just refuse to fill the damn thing out. But he doesn’t even know what to put down to be honest so how does he lie? 

Finally, he just finishes the thing with whatever comes first to his mind, some answers honest, some the opposite of honest. He’s sitting there looking around and second-guessing his answers when a tall thin man comes into the room with dark hair and glasses. 

"Hello there," the man says with an incredibly fake smile. And a British accent. "My name is Alexis Denisof," the man introduces himself. 

What is with all the British people in Oklahoma Christian asks himself. But Christian doesn't respond to introduce himself. 

The smile doesn’t waver, it seems practically frozen to the idiot’s face, as the therapist prompts, "What's your name?"

"Christian...Kane," Christian answers reluctantly. 

"Great. Nice to meet you," the man greets him and then reaches out for the paper that Christian hands over. "Well, I just wanted to talk to you about you today, just get to know you a little bit."

Christian makes a face, not wanting to talk to this uptight loser for the next hour. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about himself. 

"Tell me about your family?" Mr. Denisof continues, acting as if he doesn’t see Christian’s frustration at all. 

"What about them?" Christian retorts, rudely. 

"How many siblings do you have?" the therapist continues tight-lipped.

"Just one, an older sister," Christian replies nonchalantly. 

Mr. Denisof waits but again, he ends up prompting Christian to speak. "And you live with your mother?"

"Yep," Christian answers simply.

"What happened to your father?" the therapist asks, beginning to tap the pen on the pad on his lap. 

"He died, car accident," Christian says. He’s concentrating more on pissing this guy off than on the things he’s revealing. 

The therapist’s face gets more and more tense with every flippant answer, lines appearing on his forehead. 

Even when Christian’s asked about where he lived for the last year, he simply says, "On the streets of LA,” not giving anything of his  
feelings away. 

It’s a long boring session.

***

The next morning, Steve's cautious as he takes his shower and gets dressed. He knows that his mom would be pissed if she knew that he got a tattoo without permission. And she'd probably blame Christian for it because it's a Cherokee tattoo, obviously meant for Christian. But Steve likes it. He looks at it in the mirror as he rubs on the salve he got from the shop. 

He slips a tshirt on but the feathers extend past the short sleeves. He frowns, he hadn't even considered that when he got it. 

Fortunately, it won't seem too weird if he puts on a thin button down and rolls up the sleeves. Even in the summer it's not out of the ordinary for him to wear a shirt like that. Course he knows that it will be out of the ordinary if he starts only wearing shirts like that, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

Finally dressed, he comes out of his room to get breakfast before working the early shift and sees his mom at the table with the newspaper. 

"Hey," he says feeling a little guilty about his outburst the other night.

"Morning," she says smiling at him like last night never happened. "I assume you're going out tonight, over to Jason's?"

"Yep," he says, excited to show off his new tattoo to his friends. 

"Tell him I said hello," she smiles. "Have you called Christian this morning yet?"

"Nope, not yet," he says. "I thought I'd wait til after my shift," he says, emphasizing the sentence as she had complained before when Steve wanted to call first thing in the morning. 

"Well, tell him I said hello as well," she says. "How are things?"

Steve sighs as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. "He went to therapy yesterday. That's good, I guess."

"Yes, it is," she agrees. “It’s a start.” 

Steve doesn’t want to really talk about it with her again, and so he swallows his cereal quickly. He brushes his teeth and ties his hair back into a ponytail before leaving. 

He works the shift with Will who doesn't ask anything about Christian. Hell, Will probably doesn't really remember the homeless teen so it's not even awkward. But Steve just wants the shift to end and instead, it seems to drag on and on. 

Eventually though, Jason gets there to relieve them and he heads home. His mom is still on the computer when he gets home and he makes certain to fix himself a sandwich for lunch and eat it. 

Then finally it's time to call Christian. 

"Hello," Christian's mom answers as polite as she always does which in itself gives Steve hope that things aren't totally awful. 

"Hello, how are you today?" Steve says like every other day. 

"I'm doing well," she says like she actually thought about the question and answered honestly. "Christian," she calls out. "It's Steve, honey."

Steve has to wonder what she thinks of Steve calling every day but the thought dissipates as soon as Christian speaks. "Steve."

"Hey," Steve says happily. "How're things today?"

Christian shrugs though he's on the phone then answers, "Fine, I guess."

There's a pause before Christian asks the other teen politely, "How're you and everybody there?"

"Everything's good here," Steve answers easily. "How was the therapy yesterday?"

Steve braces for the yelling, not knowing how Christian will react, but Christian answers promptly. "He's an idiot. Spent the whole time asking me stupid questions about my family and shit, not anything important."

Steve frowns. Does that mean that Christian wants to talk about important things? "Well, I'm sure he's just getting to know you first."

Christian huffs an irritated laugh. "Yeah, that's what he said. The guy's a loser though. I think I actually made him uncomfortable."

That sounds great, Steve thinks irritated himself at this person he’s never even met. "How are things with the police investigation?" he ventures thinking that Christian seems to be in a good mood today. 

Christian sighs and the edges of his lips turn down. If he doesn’t talk about it, Steve will just hang up the phone. "I don't know. They haven't said anything."

"How was it to be interviewed?" Steve asks softly, coming to the point. 

Christian frowns, wondering what to say or how much, but the words just seem to bubble up in his throat and he can't contain them.  
Maybe because Steve's so far away, just a voice on the phone, or maybe it's because Steve is so calm and sympathetic, and Christian feels more defeated than angry today. 

"It, uhh," Christian has to clear the emotion out of his throat. "It was weird. Everybody was really nice, but I just...what's the point, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Steve asks confused. 

"Why should the police be involved?" Christian answers quietly. "It was my fault."

"No," Steve says desperately. "It wasn't your fault. He had authority over you and you were too young to even care about sex when it started."

"But he wasn't the only man I slept with," Christian confesses. He doesn't know why the words come out, he never wanted Steve to know about how slutty he is, but Steve has a right to know. "In LA, I..."

"It wasn't your fault," Steve says firmly cutting the other teen off. "You slept with other guys because of what the coach did to you."

Christian shakes his head but he doesn't say anything else for a moment. He doesn’t want to say anything else, particularly about Jeff. He’s said it, now Steve knows what he is. If Steve doesn’t want to listen, that’s not his fault.

After a moment of silence though, Christian says, "Can you play?"

Steve is amazed that he got this much information out of Christian so he's not disappointed when Christian wants to stop. "Ok, let me grab my guitar," Steve says immediately. 

He ends up playing a bunch of songs with minimal conversation, but Steve can hear how Christian relaxes into it. And that's worth any amount of sore fingers. 

Eventually though, Christian knows that he needs to get off the phone. Steve can’t just talk to him all day. 

But before they get off the phone, Christian says, “Thank you.” The words just came out, just a whim, but he knows that Steve really  
appreciated them. 

It’s in the sound of Steve’s voice even though the words are just a nonchalant, “No problem.”

After they hang up, Christian can’t help just lying on his bed, relaxed and comfortable for the moment though he knows it can’t last.  
Christian jerks back awake when he hears the sound of knocking at his door. 

“Chris, honey? Come out here for a minute will you?”

Lethargically, Christian gets up and opens the door to see his momma. 

“I have to go to work tonight, remember?” she says quickly. “But Jenny will stay here with you and make you dinner. Be good, ok?”

Christian lowers his head shamefully at having to have a babysitter but agrees readily, “Yes, ma’am.”

His momma looks dubious at the entire idea of leaving Christian alone and Christian can't blame her for not trusting him. She probably doesn't want Jenny to have to deal with him. 

But she has to go so she reluctantly picks up her purse and waves goodbye to her two children. 

As soon as the door has closed, Jenny's speaking to him. "When did you want to have dinner?"

"Whenever you want," Christian answers as he usually does. 

One side of Jenny's lips quirk at the answer but he doesn't know what she's feeling. "I guess I'll start it now then," she says. 

Christian stands there awkwardly for a moment before shifting and looking at the tv. "Were you watching anything?" he asks, cautiously. 

"Nah, go ahead and watch something," she says, though she's looking into the cabinets not at him. 

Her attitude finally relaxes him as he sits on the couch. She's not scrutinizing him at least, nor ignoring him more than she used to basically. So he flips on the tv and switches the channels for a while. 

Christian's settled into watching reruns of CSI on his sister's suggestion when there's a knock at the door. Christian tenses but Jenny's occupied and can’t answer it. 

She distractedly calls out, "Hey, get that."

It's probably no one, he tells himself. Maybe it’s just David or one of those teens who go door to door on bicycles talking about Jesus. What're they called again? Or maybe it’s the police again, he worries. 

But it's Jeff that he sees as soon as he opens the door, his large frame filling the doorway, his rugged face spotlighted by the porchlight. Christian is speechless. His heart begins pounding immediately, a drumbeat in his chest, and sweat breaks out down his spine. 

"Chris," Jeff says. 

Just that one word, his name, seems full of so much emotion, disappointment and relief. It's like a knife cutting through Christian's gut to hear Jeff acting like he cares about Christian again. 

"Thank god you're safe,” Jeff says, and it sounds so emphatic, so genuine. “I was so worried. We didn’t know what had happened to you.” 

Christian can hear Jeff’s words even over the rushing sound of his own racing heart. He feels like the world has gone fuzzy around the edges and like he can't breathe, and then Jeff reaches out his hands like he wants to hold Christian again....

"No," Christian cries out fearfully and jerks back out of reach. 

He barely registers that his sister's there in front of him then, shouting something but Christian's just trying to breathe, stumbling over his own fear as he retreats back as far as he can, out of reach, back into the kitchen. 

The bang of Jenny slamming the door on Jeff has Christian practically jumping out of his skin and jerks him out of his haze. How could he? Why does he still care about Jeff after everything that man did? How did he ever let Jeff do those things to him? Why didn't anyone help him? Jenny or his momma, or someone? 

There's a plate lying on the counter and Christian doesn’t think, just picks it up. He's so angry, at himself, at Jeff, at everyone. His vision literally seems filled with a red smoky film. 

*Smash* 

He barely registers throwing the plate at the ground but it makes him feel better, throwing it, the loud crash, the destruction, even the piece of dish that cut his hand. He grabs another one and smashes it on the linoleum floor. 

Soon he's ripping open the cabinets to get at the glasses and plates. It feels good to break them, to smash things to bits just like he's smashed, to destroy all the semblance of normality that he'll never have again. 

But it doesn't calm him, doesn't stop his heart from beating at his ribcage like it’s trying to escape, and he just breathes faster and faster and more and more shallow until it's like he's not sucking in any air at all. 

His knees hit the floor and it hurts, the impact and the slice of broken glass and ceramic through his jeans. 

*Slap* 

He flutters long eyelashes at the sudden stinging pain his cheek to see his sister above him, her face looking harassed and freaked out. He doesn’t remember how he got on his back on the floor. 

"Get up!”

He finally focuses on the words that she's yelling at him. "C'mon Chris! Get up!"

He puts his hand down to help push up, but the stinging pain has him jerking his hand back with a hiss. He vaguely remembers causing the mess around him, sitting in the middle of pieces of shattered ceramic. Putting his hand back down carefully, he pushes himself up, struggling to his feet with her pulling on his other arm. But on his feet, he's unsteady, and he falls into the counter even as she tries to help him. 

Together though, they manage to get him to the couch where he flops down immediately. He feels her hands moving over his arms and legs, pulling out the larger pieces of glass, but then she's gone. He looks up, scanning the room to find her getting the phone from the kitchen. She dials it and tucks it between her ear and shoulder before coming back over to the couch with it. 

"Momma," he hears and the sharpness of her voice makes Christian try to pay more attention. "Come home. Now, momma. Jeff was here. Chris freaked out," Jenny says frantically. 

He can see that Jenny's listening to whatever his momma is saying and then she hangs up, leaving the phone on the coffee table as she goes into the bathroom. 

On impulse, Christian reaches for the phone. He can't stand feeling so scared and out of control and before he knows it he hears, "Hello."

"Steve," he replies and to his own ears, his voice sounds like a sob. 

"Christian?" Steve asks, immediately concerned at the desperate sound of Christian's voice. "What is..."

"I don't..." Christian speaks and Steve goes immediately silent. "I don't know why I called," Christian says stupidly. 

His sister is looking questioningly down at him with bandaids and a washcloth in her hand. 

"Sorry," Christian starts to hang up. 

"No!" Steve screams. "What's wrong? What do you need? Anything," Steve begs. 

Tears prick at Christian's eyes, his face scrunches up and not in pain as Jenny starts to clean up his free hand. 

"Can you play?" Christian asks miserably. 

Steve still doesn't even know what's wrong, but there's only one answer to that question. "Of course," he says tucking the phone into his shoulder as he heads back to his room despite the watchful eyes of both of his parents. He puts the phone on speaker and plays the first thing that comes to mind. 

Christian starts to relax, just a little, just enough to be able to get a full breath again as Jenny fixes up his hands and tries to get at the cuts on his legs. 

He doesn't know how many songs Steve plays, couldn't say what songs they were. He feels like he’s simply drifting along with the music, but then his momma is busting through the door. 

"I have to go," Christian slurs. 

Steve drops his guitar and picks up the phone in a panic. "No wait! What happened?"

"Jeff came by," Christian answers dully. 

"Jeff, the coach?" Steve questions. 

"Yeah, but Jenny made him leave," Christian confirms. "I have to go, momma’s back from work."

As soon as Christian shuts off the phone, his momma is all over him, her hands on his face and then holding his hands.

“Honey?” she asks, her voice trembling. “How are you feeling?”

Christian tries to keep from crying again, but he just feels so exhausted. “Mommy…”

“It’s ok,” she soothes, running her hands through his hair. “How do you feel? Can you breathe ok now?”

“Yeah,” he says in a little voice. “I’m…I’m good.”

“Ok,” his momma says, relief evident in the lines on her face but she looks immediately toward Jenny whom Christian just notices is sitting on the coffee table. “Jenny, keep an eye on him,” she says picking up the phone. “I’m gonna call these advocates and see if there’s something we can do.”

His momma stands and takes the phone with her. Christian kinda wants to call her back, beg her to hold her again, but Jenny sits next  
to him then, putting her arm around his shoulder. He chokes back his plea and watches his momma get out the business cards out of her purse.

***

“Moooooom,” Steve screams, carrying the cell phone with him as he walks out of his bedroom. 

His momma is looking at him like he has lost his damn mind screaming like that, but Steve barely notices as he hurries over.

“Mom, that was Christian. He’s in trouble,” Steve starts. “The coach guy, who, you know, he came by Christian’s house while his mom  
was at work.”

“Was he home alone?” his mom asks, looking worried. 

“He was with his older sister, I think” Steve explains. “But he sounded terrified at first.”

“And he called you,” his mom questions skeptically. 

“He wanted me to play the guitar,” Steve explains. “It calms him down, I guess, but afterwards he seemed…out of it, like catatonic and then his mom came home.” 

His mom sighs as she looks back at him with earnest eyes. “I was afraid of this,” she says finally. 

“Afraid of what?” Steve asks suspiciously. “That this fucker wouldn’t leave Christian alone?”

“Language,” his mom says sternly. She huffs before she explains, “No, that his mother’s job wouldn’t enable her to be there for him as much as he needs. It doesn’t seem like she has anyone else to support her and her daughter can’t be expected to know what to do with Christian right now.” 

“Mom,” Steve begs, sensing her weakening, “we need to be there.”

His mom’s face tightens as she looks down then stands up. “Let me talk to your father,” she says before walking towards the music room. 

Steve is about to respond when his phone rings. His heart almost stalls in his chest before he looks to see that it’s just Jensen.  
“Hello,” he answers, distracted by looking up to see his mom closing the music room door behind her. 

“Steve!” Jensen cries, sounding happy. “Where are you, man?”

“I don’t think I’m coming,” Steve starts. “Christian called.”

“Christian called you,” Jensen verifies, sounding shocked. A little too shocked, like Jensen’s been drinking, Steve thinks. 

“Yes,” Steve says a little irritated. “The guy who molested him came by his house.”

“What?!” Jensen practically screeches and Steve can hear Jared and someone else in the background. 

“Yeah,” Steve’s anger starts to come out in his voice. “And Christian’s mom wasn’t there. He was home alone with his sister.” Sadness seeps in to replace the anger then as he continues, “Christian sounded terrified. He wanted me to play the guitar and calm him down.”

“Where was his mom?” Jensen asks in a much more subdued tone. 

“At work,” Steve snaps indignantly. “Just like she was while Christian was being raped, I’m sure.”

Jensen’s silent in the face of Steve’s anger. So Steve decides to just continue talking, “I hope we’re gonna go to Oklahoma now.”

“What?” Jensen stutters. “Your mom is gonna take you now? For real?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Steve answers hesitantly. “Christian needs some more support than his mom can give with her job. So mom agrees that we should try and go.”

“Oh,” Jensen says then trails off. 

Steve’s mom comes out of the music room then. “Steve,” she starts then stops as she sees him on the phone. “Oh…”

“Jensen, I have to go. We’re talking about when to go,” Steve says quickly. 

“Ok, see ya,” Jensen says reluctantly. 

“Bye,” Steve says quickly. 

“That was Jensen?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Steve answers. “So what’d you decide?”

“Well, it looks like we can fly there Saturday to Saturday for about what I thought it would cost us to fly later in the summer,” she answers. 

“So we go tomorrow?” Steve asks, shocked and excited. 

“Yes, we’ll leave tomorrow, after,” she says loudly cutting off his excitement. “After I call his mom tomorrow and make sure we won’t be making things worse.”

“Ok,” Steve agrees readily. 

Surely Christian’s mom will let them come. She needs their help, and she’s been nice every time that he’s called.

“I suppose you’re not going to Jason’s?” she asks then. 

“No,” Steve shrugs. “I wanna be here in case Christian calls again. And I’m just not really feeling it now.”

“Well then you may as well start packing so we’re ready,” she tells him pointedly. 

“We’ll be there a week, you think?” Steve asks. 

“Yes,” she says firmly, not giving him any reason to hope for more. 

Steve nods and hurries off to his room, eager to be ready to go and not wanting in any way to upset his mom so that she changes her mind. He grabs his suitcase from the back of the closet and then takes out all of his thin button down shirts that hide his tattoo, as well as some nicer button down shirts. But he also brings some tshirts too. 

He’s still getting all of his things together when he hears the doorbell ring. But he doesn’t come out of his room until he hears his mom call out, “Steve! Your friends are here.”

Surprised, Steve goes out into the living room to see Jensen and Jared and Jason and Misha standing there. “Guys, what’re you…?”

Jensen steps forward with a smile, Jared standing awkwardly behind him, “We wanted to see you before you left.”

Steve can’t help smiling in response despite the dramatic night he’s had. 

“And we brought you pizza,” Jason says, setting the pizza box on the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch. 

Quickly, they all settle in around the coffee table, Jason, Steve, and Misha on the couch and Jared and Jensen on the floor. They don’t talk specifically about why Steve is suddenly going to see Christian in Oklahoma, but they talk about Christian still, wondering how he’s adjusting to being at home, wondering how horrible it would be to live on the streets of LA, wondering if Christian will ever come back to LA. 

Steve does tell them about the music, about how it calms Christian when it seems nothing else will, gets him to share things that he might not otherwise. 

In the end, it’s a happy night. Steve’s confident that they’ll be able to help Christian, and now he’s even more certain that Christian will be better off in LA. But he lies awake in bed that night unable to get much sleep.

***

The next morning, Steve anxiously sits next to his mother at the kitchen table as she dials a number well known to him. It sucks that he can only hear one side of this conversation. 

“Hello, Pam?” his mom starts, her voice shattering his tense silence. “This is Sandy, Steve Carlson’s mother. Yes, how are you doing?”

Christ, he hates small talk, Steve thinks. 

“Yes, Steve has been very upset as well,” she says sadly. “He really would like to see Christian again.”

There’s silence that drags on far too long for Steve’s comfort. “We’d love to come as soon as possible if that’s alright with you.”  
There’s another pause. “Yes, we found a great airfare deal for today actually. Saturday’s a good day to fly.”  
Another pause. “Of course. That would be great. We’ll see you soon,” His mom says as she hangs up. 

“Are we going?” Steve insists. 

“Yes, she said it was fine for us to come today,” Steve’s mom answers with an indulgent shake of her head at his impatience. “Well…go get ready,” she orders teasingly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's been a really long time. I've been holding on to this forever, hoping to edit it, but I decided I should just post it as is because it's not fair to keep it from y'all. Hopefully, it will jumpstart me into fixing this thing and finishing it. There is definitely one more part to go.

Jenny sits beside him on the couch for a little while. They can both hear their momma’s angry voice in the background but he doesn’t focus on the words.  
But soon Jenny’s standing up, going into the kitchen to talk to their momma, talking as if he isn’t here, cleaning up the mess as if he wasn’t the one who went psycho and destroyed their stuff.

“What’d they say?” Jenny asks quietly.

“The police will pick him up for violating the restraining order we have, but he won’t stay very long,” their momma replies calmly.

“We had a restraining order?” Jenny questions, sounding afraid like she should never have to sound.

“Yeah, when we went to the child advocacy center, they had the paperwork all ready. She said I should get one just as procedure, not that they expected anything,” their momma’s voice trails off.

Christian hears his momma sigh big and loud and then she’s standing, he can hear the glass crushed under her work sneakers.

“Sweetie,” his momma says hesitantly, standing in front of the couch again. “Jenny, why don’t you and your brother go to bed now, ok? I’ll clean this up.”

Christian thinks about protesting. He knows that he should be the one to clean up the mess, but he doesn’t. He simply gets up and keeps his head down as Jenny lays a guiding hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t shrug it off, doesn’t feel like doing much of anything at the moment, but he’s fine being led around. He looks up when he hears a door open and realizes that Jenny’s led him to the bathroom.

Automatically, he grabs his toothbrush, and she grabs her own. They haven’t brushed their teeth in the bathroom at the same time since he can’t remember when.  
He finishes first and goes ahead and leaves the room, quietly going into his bedroom. It feels like relief when he finally lies down on the mattress. It takes him a moment to work up the energy to take off his clothes and put on his sleep pants and tshirt.

Once changed and under the covers though, he just lays there, not really thinking about anything but feeling worn out, too worn out to sleep, he supposes. Strangely, he’s not surprised when his bedroom door opens, but he thought it would be his mother coming to check on him.

Instead, it’s his sister, slipping inside the room in her sleep clothes too.

“Move over,” she sort of whispers as she reaches the edge of his bed.

Unquestioning despite the strangeness, Chris scoots back so that he’s curled on his side facing her as she slides underneath the covers.

For once her presence doesn’t make him automatically uncomfortable. He doesn’t feel much of anything, but it’s nice for her to be here and him to not need to fill the silence between them. He’s not up to caring right now.

“You remember the last time we slept in the same bed?” she whispers. “We used to every Christmas Eve when we lived in Dallas because we were too excited about what we’d get for Christmas?”

Christian does remember so he makes an affirmative grunt. He remembers that they used to sneak down into the living room after midnight so often that their parents made a new rule that they could take one toy from their stockings back into the room before morning.

But it’s been a long time since then.

Christian wakes up the next morning and she’s still there in his bed, but she’s obviously awake. And as soon as she notices that he’s awake too, she’s climbing out of bed.

“I’ve got bathroom first,” she calls behind her as she leaves Christian’s room.

Right about then, Christian thinks he’s seriously considering pissing in his bed rather than getting up. There doesn’t seem to be any point to him doing anything anymore.

But then Jenny is poking her head back inside his room. “Hey, get up. Breakfast is ready,” she says quickly.

With a sigh, Christian pulls himself out of bed. He doesn’t bother to get dressed, just goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before he joins the two women at the table.

He takes a look at the clock over the oven, noting that it’s a little after 10AM. He slept late for the first time in a bed in a long time, but he supposed that Jenny just couldn’t sleep very well in his bed with him. He can’t blame her though for once, he got a good night’s sleep.

Jenny’s already out by the time that he makes it to the bathroom. There are pancakes waiting for him, on paper plates that he thinks his mom has kept since they moved into this house.

Christian barely flinches at the proof of the destruction he’s caused in his family’s life. Not even when his momma smiles weakly at him, barely able to look at him. He doesn’t attempt to smile back, simply starts cutting his pancakes with his fork, slowly, though he makes no attempt to eat it.

He hears his momma sigh, but he has no idea how long he sits there without eating, all of them silent.

And then the phone rings. Christian feels so deep in a fugue that he doesn’t even flinch at the sudden noise. He looks up to see that the two women are startled and it takes his momma a second before she gets up. As soon as she answers though, he’s looking back down at his lap. He doesn’t really care if it’s the police or the therapist or anyone anymore.

But he looks up again at the sound of his name.

“Chris? Honey, would you like Steve to visit this weekend? Chris…” she says, but then she sighs at his nonanswer and turns back to the phone.

It’s like struggling to the surface from underwater as Christian tries to figure out what she is talking about. Steve is on the phone? But then his momma hangs up without offering him the phone.

His momma seems just as confused as she puts the phone down on the table next to her own uneaten pancakes. She stares down at it for a long moment as Christian tries to wet his suddenly dry throat enough to ask what’s going on.

But she speaks before he does. Clearing her throat, she looks up as if she’s trying to sound happy. “Steve’s mom said they’d like to fly over for a visit. I figured…well, I thought maybe you’d feel better with someone you’ve been around…lately.”

“Couldn’t be worse,” Jenny says under her breath even though they all heard her.

Their momma winces though whether it’s because Jenny is right or wrong, he can’t tell. He thinks this is worse, much worse.

Steve can’t come here. What is he thinking? His momma may have forgiven him for Jeff, protected him even, but he can’t keep doing it. He can’t be gay. She’d hate him. He’s supposed to be getting over all of that mess.

But as soon as Steve gets here, she’ll know. She’ll see what’s between them. He suddenly feels all of his fugue dissipate like mist at the first touch of the sun’s rays. He can’t sit at this table anymore. He stands up suddenly, draining his glass of juice before rushing to his room. No one even calls after him, they’re so used to his strange behavior.  
***************

After the phone call, Steve’s mom flitters around the house, busy getting everything ready for their trip. What she’s actually doing, Steve doesn’t know. Wasn’t that why they packed last night? So that they’d be ready?

“Sweetie, why don’t you give David a call? Let him know that we’re coming,” Steve’s mom’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Why would I wanna do that?” Steve mutters to himself. He’s going to see Christian so he doesn’t need David as a go-between anymore. But his mom has always moved out of hearing, still busy.

“Fine,” he says aloud again, already drawing out his phone.

The phone has barely rung once when it’s picked up and a harried sounding David is on the line. “Steve?” he answers.

“Yeah, hey…”Steve starts but David immediately cuts him off.

“I don’t have a ton of time, gotta get to work. What’s up?” David says quickly.

“Just thought you might want to know that I’m coming to Oklahoma today,” Steve says, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Already? Why?” David asks, not at all buying Steve’s nonchalance.

“Oh, well, it was…last night when that coach went to Christian’s house. He was…pretty freaked out so…” Steve is explaining haltingly when David interrupts again.

“Morgan what?” David interrupts in seeming surprise. “No, look, I have to go, but I will try to stop by later and see what happened. I guess I’ll…see you later.”

Steve is left holding the phone confused and irritated. It certainly seems like Christian is telling him more things than telling David. But there’s still a lot of ways in which David is more knowledgeable than him. David knows Christian’s mom, his friends, and perhaps most importantly, the Coach. Though, Steve does hate the familiar way that David talks about the man who hurt Christian.

It puts a damper on Steve’s enthusiasm about getting to see Christian. He’ll be in a new place, where he doesn’t know the rules seemingly. Christian will be able to hide easier there where his mom won’t want company all the time. And David will be there and who knows who else.

And what can he really do to help Christian anyway. Yeah, he’ll be there for Christian to talk to, but how can he keep that Coach away? How can he protect Christian from people like David’s parents who will blame Christian without even seeing how hurt Christian is?

“Did you call?” Steve’s mom interrupts again.

Rolling his eyes, Steve answers, “Yes,” in a droll tone.

His mom looks at him for a long moment as if noticing his change in mood, but then she simply says, “Ready to go?”

Steve doesn’t answer but he gets up from his seat and follows his mom to the door where his luggage has been waiting all morning. Unconsciously, he touches the still scabbed tattoo on his right arm. Will Christian even like it? Maybe he shouldn’t let anyone see it right now.

But when they get to the airport and Steve is confronted by the huge crowd of people there, his mood sinks even lower. It feels like an obstacle course to get to Christian. He just wants to know how the visit will be already, instead of making up horrors in his mind.  
************

Christian doesn’t come out of his room until he hears the doorbell ring. He knows intellectually that it’s too early for Steve to be here, but his heart jumps up anyway. He’s afraid no matter who it is, Steve or David or Jeff or…

He opens his door to find that it’s another policeman at the door. He can’t help that he first instinctively pulls back into his room, but he knows that it’s too late to hide. This is still the police, the same force that he’s spent two years being so scared of.

Christian can hear that the policeman is asking about the night before, asking to speak to Christian and whoever was in the house last night when Mr. Morgan stopped by. But his momma doesn’t call out to him to come over, instead she’s angry, her voice high-pitched and her attention entirely on the police officer.  
Coming out from the safety of his room some, he glances to the kitchen where his sister is watching the door as well.

“Have you picked that bastard up yet?” his momma is asking, using language that Christian has never heard out of her mouth.

“Ma’am, I don’t know anything about that. I’m here to collect statements from the alleged victim…” the officer says, holding in frustration at her anger.

“The advocate said that he’d been told not to come here, but nobody will say whether he’s in jail or not. I need to know if my son is safe,” his momma presses for answers, sounding frustrated herself and angry, but also scared. It makes Christian scared and he clings to the door jam.

“You should be more concerned with what your son is doing,” the officer snaps.

His momma stops talking, her mouth still open, stunned at the implication of the officer’s words. Christian holds his breath, waiting for his momma’s words, waiting for her to reject him too.

The officer doesn’t wait for her to respond though. He glances over at Christian, cowering by his room and sneers, before saying, “Coach won’t be in long, but I doubt that he’ll be back here.”

With that the man leaves, without talking to anyone but Christian’s momma. It’s not until the door closes behind him, though it’s not slammed, that she seems to snap out of it.

And then she’s madder than ever.

“The…what did he…what, did he think that that man would be welcome here? Like he was just stopping by to see how Christian is?!” she scoffs, not turning around but shouting at the door.

“And I am watching my son!” she shouts, before she sucks in a breath that sounds like a sob and lets her face fall forward. She seems distraught and hiding and Christian feels like he just wants to hide back in his room.

“It’s not your fault, honey,” she says, lifting her head again and then wiping her face as if she can just wipe off the encounter, wipe off all of the anger she just had.

“The police are going to pick up Mr. Morgan. The advocate said.”

Christian feels like at this point, she’s not just trying to convince him. It’s just like after Dad died, trying to hide her outbursts, to sweep them under the rug as if they didn’t happen.

Suddenly feeling angry himself, Christian steps back into his room and slams the door shut.

He hears the phone ring shortly after, but she doesn’t call him so he suspects it’s no one for him anyway.  
*********

Steve breathes a sigh of relief when they finally exit the plane and enter the small and much less crowded airport in Oklahoma. It feels almost quaint in comparison to LA.

But still he doesn’t get to go to Christian. First they have to get their bags and then the rental car counter, it just seems to take forever, and a day. But as soon as they get the car, Steve is throwing his bags in the backseat and jumping into the passenger seat, grabbing the GPS to input Christian’s address that he’s memorized by now.

His mom finally opens the driver’s side door, arranging her purse before handing him a computer print out. “Ok, let’s find our hotel,” she says.

Steve mumbles a surprised, “Wwhhh…” as he looks down at the papers in his hand. It’s a hotel confirmation.

“We aren’t going to Christian’s? But it’s noon, the day’s half over…” Steve starts to object.

Steve’s mom looks are frustrated as Steve feels. “We will go check in at the hotel and eat lunch, then we will call the Kane’s and make sure that it is a good time for us to come over.”

“But mooom,” Steve whines.

“No,” she interrupts sternly. “I know you want to see him, but we are going to the hotel first. Please put the address in the GPS.”

Steve slumps back into his seat theatrically with a loud groan, but he does put in the address he finds on the confirmation paper. He keeps quiet and crosses his arm as his mom pulls out from the rental parking lot.

Goddammit, Steve thinks to himself. Christian has to know that he’s coming, and after last night might be waiting for him to get there. Maybe Christian needs him while they’re just fucking around at the hotel. It doesn’t sound like Christian wanted to talk to his mom or sister.

They stop at a fast food place and he eats his burger before they make it to their hotel, one of the many ubiquitous Days Inn, Holiday Inn, Hampton Inn, whatever. They park in the unloading zone and his mom goes to check in while Steve collects their bags. He piles them on, his book bag and his duffel over his shoulder while he pulls his mom’s rolling suitcase. But he doesn’t take out his guitar. He wants to have it when he finally goes to Christian’s.

He gets the room key from his mom before she goes to move the car, but it seems to take forever for her to get back. Shoving the rest of his fries in his mouth, he throws himself back on one of the beds. But as soon as he hears the door open again, he’s bolting back upright. His mom grabs the fast food bag and sits down at the tiny fake wooden table.

Groaning loudly, Steve throws himself back down, the cheap mattress squeaking underneath him. But when he looks his mom, she isn’t looking at him, just sitting there eating her burger. So, he sighs and bounces on the squeaky bed again.

It just can’t get any worse, he thinks, so antsy it feels like there are actual ants under his skin. What if something is happening to Christian? What if the teen can’t call Steve for help? What if Morgan comes by again? What if…

Groaning again, he gets up to grab the tv remote, flipping aimlessly through the channels. There isn’t anything that he wants to see so he keeps flipping like it’s a compulsion. Fidgeting, he rolls on his side and considers smothering himself in this pillow, when finally, he hears his mom get up.

His head pops up to watch her rummage through her purse until she finds her phone. “Alright,” she says, “let me call your father and then I’ll call Mrs. Kane and ask if now is a good time for us to come by. But I warn you that we’re not staying all night. We might bring dinner and then head back here.”

Nodding his assent, Steve pops up off the bed and heads to the bathroom, checking out how he looks in the mirror. He grabs his duffel bag and searches through for his toothbrush, vaguely listening to his mom’s phone conversation. His mom laughs when she’s on the phone with his Dad, but then her voice is softer and less emotive in the second conversation.

He brushes his teeth and tries to fix his hair, smooths his shirt. His hand goes again to the itchy patch on his arm until his mom startles him.

“She says we can go over for dinner, I said that we’d pick up some pizzas for everybody,” she says suddenly appearing at the door frame.

“What?” he asks, looking over at her with his face feeling stretched in surprise. “But that’s not until later, it’s only…” Steve looks down at this watch, “it’s only 2!”

She smiles ruefully at him. “Steve, you have got to calm down. Christian’s mother already has a lot to deal with and we are not going to be an additional burden.”

“But she doesn’t know how to help him! Maybe she doesn’t care, he ran away from her!” Steve cries, his voice getting high-pitched.

“She is going to have to learn to deal with him, to deal with all of this, Steve. We are here to help, but Christian needs his mother more than he needs us,” she says and immediately turns back towards the room.

Frowning, Steve follows after, lying back down on his bed, staring at the tv show as his mom flips the channels now. He’s hoping that maybe he’ll be able to take a nap instead of watch whatever boring show she’s going to decide on.  
********

When there’s a knock on the door again, Christian doesn’t get up, doesn’t open the door to see what’s going on. But then there’s a knock on his bedroom door. For a moment, he considers not even getting up then, not even answering.

It takes him a minute, but he does get up and go to the door. His mom is there and she immediately steps inside his room instead of beckoning him out, forcing Christian to move further inside to allow her room.

“Christian, David is here to see you. I want you to behave this time, alright? He just wants to make sure that you’re ok,” she starts without preamble.

He just nods numbly, feeling too numb to get upset like he did the last time that he saw David. But his mom isn’t finished speaking. “David cares about you just like Steve does. So, I want you to be nice and Steve and his mom will be here for dinner.”

Christian doesn’t even know what he feels about that. After last night and the officer’s insinuations today, it seems too late to feel anything. If his mother doesn’t already know about him, know that he’s gay, it seems that she soon will no matter what he does to stop it.

He simply nods again and takes a step towards the door and she moves aside so that he can lead the way out into the living room. Jenny is in the kitchen and this time she’s watching him, her hands immobile and concern on her face.

Realizing that he’s delaying the inevitable, he looks over to David who’s standing and has concern all over his face too. He doesn’t want everyone’s concern, or frankly their attention at all.

“Hey, what’re you…?”

“Chris, are you alright?”

They both start speaking at the same time, but it’s Chris who subsides quickly and lets David talk.

“I heard about what happened,” David continues.

So, it’s safe to assume that everyone knows by now, Christian thinks. He only shrugs in reply though. There’s nothing he can do about it now.

David seems unsure and his nonresponse and looks over to his momma. As if she knows a thing about what’s going on with him. He just shrugs again and throws himself down on the couch.

David starts again, still standing. “Well, I heard that the Coach was…”

“I don’t care,” Christian interrupts. He feels like he really doesn’t and he particularly doesn’t want to talk about it. “You wanna watch some tv? Steve is actually coming here later, you remember Steve.”

David still looks unsure, practically scared at Christian’s attitude, but he sits down on the couch himself. “Yeah, course I remember him,” he says stiffly. “So, he’s coming to visit already? He’s a good friend, I guess then.”

“Yeah, he’s…” Christian searches for a word for Steve that won’t sound too gay, “cool.”

Christian know that he sounds like a douche so he keeps his eyes firmly on the tv, hoping that David will just stop talking. And to his immense relief, David does for a while and his momma goes to the kitchen. It’s surprisingly easy, not caring and just watching the tv. His head still hurts but he doesn’t ask for any Advil.  
But it doesn’t last. They’ve watched a couple of reruns of Scrubs when there’s a knock at the door, again. They haven’t had that many visitors but today it seems that everyone and their mother is stopping by and ruining the perfect state of fugue that Christian is trying to stay in.

Before his momma can even get across the house to open the door, Christian’s drops his chin to his chest. He knows that whoever it is, it’s not going to be good news for him. His mom will want him to at least act like he cares.

He’s still staring at his navel when he hears the door open and his mother’s high excited voice. But he’s listening carefully enough that he can hear the tension behind the welcome in his momma’s voice. He knows that it’s Steve before he hears Steve’s voice. David stands up from the couch.

“Come in, come in,” his momma is saying. “How was your flight? It’s so nice of you to come visit Chris.”

Christian lifts his head just as David raises his hand, saying, “Hey, Steve. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Carlson.”

“Yeah, hey…is Christian…” Steve’s voice sounds agitated already and Christian finally stands up when he hears his name.

Steve is so relieved to see Christian that the awkward moments of a second ago are entirely forgotten. A smile breaks across his lips like the first rays of the sun hitting the land in the morning.

“Christian,” he exclaims, and then tries to calm himself, aware of both of their mothers, and David. “How are you?”

Christian lifts one hand in an awkward wave. “Hey,” he says succinctly.

Steve is absolutely not disappointed, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Of course, Christian wasn’t going to run into his arms or something. He never did when he lived in Steve’s house, and certainly after the way they left it at the hospital…but still, Christian called him last night, called him when that bastard came to terrorize him. That has to mean something.

Christian unconsciously moves a little closer to David as he looks to his mom to gauge her reaction. David is known, safe. He’s never slept with David, never kissed him or anything, and David never suspected. David is a jock, a guy’s guy, he’s definitely not gay. And he was a wrestler, just like the police officer from earlier, but David believes Christian.

Steve steps toward the couch, feeling awkward that the two other teens are on the other side, the couch a barrier to the closeness that he wants to feel again.

“So, you two were watching tv?” Steve asks, gesturing stupidly at the tv. He hates how needy and jealous the question sounds.

“Yeah,” Christian starts, glancing up at David who is letting him talk since Steve is his friend. “Just chillin’. You…you wanna sit down?”

Christian feels strange being the host, inviting Steve like he’s in charge. He doesn’t feel in charge of anything. But the invitation puts a smile on Steve’s face, a smile that both makes Christian feel happy and scared. Steve moves toward the couch as Christian glances over at his mother, to make sure that she’s not watching them if he screws up, if Steve sits too close.

But as he catches his mother’s eyes, she smiles tightly at him and says, “Boys, would you like to come eat? David, you are welcome to stay. There’s plenty of food.”

David hasn’t sat back down and now he moves out from the couch, away from Christian. “I’d love to, ma’am, but I have to get home. Is it ok if I come back tomorrow though? Chris and I can maybe throw the ball around or something.”

Steve can feel his face frowning even as Christian’s mom of course says that of course David can come back tomorrow and how sweet of him…barf. Steve came all the way from LA, he should get to spend time alone with Christian.

David waves at Christian as he heads out the door, and Christian just manages to get his hand up in time to wave. He feels like the conversation is going on around him, about him but not really needing his input. His whole life feels like that now.

Steve is moving away from him moving toward the kitchen table, but Christian doesn’t lift his eyes to watch the other teen, only seeing from the side of his eyes as he keeps his eyes on the couch. He doesn’t want his momma to see him looking at Steve too much, getting too close.

Sitting at the table, both boys look down at their plates, both feeling awkward and unsure what to do while the mothers fuss around the kitchen, both moving with that assurance that mothers do.

Steve notices that unlike the last time that Christian was in LA, he’s leaning away from Steve. But he still hasn’t figured out what to say when Mrs. Kane is handing him a tin foil container of food. They’re having salad and chicken parmigiana from a restaurant recommended by the front desk of their hotel.

He thanks her and fills his plate, passing everything to Christian who does take at least some of each dish before passing to his sister. But he doesn’t get the chance to see how much Christian eats when Mrs. Kane suddenly asks him a question.

“Steve, are you still in high school? On your summer break, then?” she asks from where she’s seated to his left.

“Yes, I’ll be a senior this year,” Steve answers politely.

“So, you’re about the same age as Chris then?” she continues. “You must be excited to be a senior.”

“Yes, it will be nice to be the top of the heap for once,” Steve says with a smile, feeling awkward as he pokes at his food.

“Do you do any extracurriculars? Play football maybe? Is that how you met Chris?” she continues.

It’s the last question that gives away what these questions are really getting at. She wants to know what Christian was doing in LA. Meaning that she hasn’t found out from Christian, and that’s a conversation that Steve really doesn’t want to have.

“Well, we did meet in the park,” Steve repeats pretty much what he told her that last time that he saw her in the hospital.

“It was nice of David to come visit,” Steve’s mom interjects much to Steve’s gratefulness. “Have you had a lot of visitors?”

“Not too many, no,” Mrs. Kane obfuscates nicely.

There seems to be absolutely no safe subject around here. How are they supposed to help when no one wants to talk about anything important, not even him, Steve thinks. He stuffs a bite of salad in his mouth quickly hoping that it will stop any more questions for now. He just wants to talk to Christian about things.

Christian is stiff as they talk about him, but he’s grateful too that everyone seems to be avoiding actually saying anything. It’s hard not to look at Steve, not to want to see if Steve’s emotions are on his face, wants to know what the other teen is thinking, why he came. But he forces himself to look to the other side, where his sister sits.

She notices the turn of his face and smiles at him. It’s so unexpected that he immediately looks back to his plate as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, only then thinking that he should have smiled back like a normal person. He feels like he’s constantly behind on how he should be acting.

“You live outside of LA?” Christian’s momma asks their guest.

“Yes, it’s a little bit of a commute for my husband to work in the city, but not bad,” Steve’s mom answers. “It isn’t in such a nice neighborhood as this, though. We hardly even know our neighbors.”

Christian’s mom accepts the small compliment and they continue stroking each other’s egos and competing in politeness until finally his momma notices that he’s done eating.

“Chris, you’re done?” his momma asks looking from Christian’s plate to Steve’s. “If you boys are through, you can go watch tv,” she offers.

“No, I’ll help clean,” Christian starts, defensive at the idea that he wants to be alone with Steve like a girl.

“Yeah, I’m happy to help clean everything,” Steve adds begrudgingly, not wanting to seem rude to Christian’s mom.

“How sweet of you two,” she says, actually seeming grateful though she hasn’t let Christian help since he’s been home. “But you two go watch tv.”

Steve gets up immediately, stacking his silverware neatly on his plate before standing. But Christian hesitates, not wanting to seem eager, wanting to better understand his momma’s intention. She’s not looking at him though, has already turned back to Steve’s mom.

Chastened, Christian follows Steve to the tv, hesitantly picking up the remote. The situation is familiar and yet backwards and upside down. He holds the remote loosely, almost like an offering, wishing almost that Steve would simply take it from him, figure things out for him.

He presses the on button. “What do you wanna…”

“Are you ok?” Steve finally asks, knowing he probably shouldn’t be so direct. “Last night was so…”

They’re both interrupted by Jenny sitting down in the armchair to Christian’s right. “Did y’all get enough to eat?” she asks.

Steve sees the way that Christian is staring at his sister kinda stunned like. He doesn’t have a sibling so it’s hard for him to imagine how exactly he would feel to be Christian’s sister right now, but he feels like she’s suspicious of him.

“Chris, you ok?” she asks solicitously, her second question jolting him from his stunned silence.

“Fine,” Christian grumbles. He’s not sure why she’s suddenly interested in him, but he doesn’t need her acting like he’s weak and pathetic.

Now Christian concentrates on the remote control, feeling watched from both sides and unwilling now to give the responsibility of choosing a program to someone else. Unfortunately, as he flips and flips and flips, he doesn’t recognize anything.

Steve can see Christian’s sister is still watching him out of the corner of her eye but he forcefully averts his own gaze so that he doesn’t make her more suspicious. He watches Christian’s thumb press the channel button over and over only then realizing that the other teen is just changing the channels over and over. And then Steve realizes how anxious Christian seems.

Christian’s eyes are staring without blinking at the flicking channels on the tv and then he bites his bottom lip. Steve looks back to his lap. It’s all wrong. What is he supposed to do? How can he help Christian when he feels anxious and judged himself?

“Have you seen any of your friends besides David?” Steve tries, just wanting to distract Christian from the tv.

And Christian blinks at him and Steve wonders whether he’s imagined the wetness there or whether it was just due to the glare of the tv.

“Oh, uh,” Christian clears his throat and looks back down at the remote. “No, it’s just been, uhh, you know, David.”

Christian focuses hard on the tv then, seeing that it’s some king of fishing show and thinking that that’s good enough. What is he supposed to say? That he’s been busy, being tested and questioned? That he didn’t have really any friends who liked him enough to still want to associate with him after all this? That everyone, even his sister, seemed like a stranger long before he left?

Silence reigns for a little while with Steve debating whether to go back to his first question about the coach despite Jennifer’s presence or to keep quiet and hope that he’ll get some time alone with the other teen.

Steve finally opens his mouth when Jennifer’s voice interrupts him. “So, you let Chris stay with you? And how did you meet exactly?”

Steve shuts hit mouth with a clank. Jennifer’s voice is hard though she’s staring at the tv, only sparing Steve a glance as if she doesn’t really care. Christian’s reaction on the other hand is even more horrified than Steve’s own. It looks like Christian almost gives himself whiplash, tv remote finally forgotten.

“Just playing my guitar in the park, you know, when we met,” Steve says.

“And you just invited him into your house?” Jennifer asks.

“Jenny!” Christian snaps at her obviously accusing tone. He’s not sure what she’s doing, but he knows that it shouldn’t be Steve that she’s accusing. “He was just helping me. I…I fucked up, and…”

“No, I helped because he saved them and…” Steve tries to talk over Christian’s voice.

“Boys,” Christian’s mother interrupts them.

“Steve,” Steve’s mom calls out. “C’mon honey, let’s head back to the hotel and let them get some sleep.”

Reluctantly, Steve gets up, internally complaining that it’s really not late. But he wasn’t getting any information anyway. As they say their goodbyes and head back to the rental car, he hasn’t really learned anything about what’s happening with Christian and his family. His mom seemed nice enough but is she really supporting Christian? Steve has no idea.

Christian is happy to see them go, hoping now that he can just go back to his room and be left alone again. Jenny throws herself back down on the couch and grabs the remote but she stops when she realizes that her brother is still standing.

“So, what’s your deal with him?” she asks him. “He came all the way out here, why?”

Christian stiffens immediately. “Nothing,” he snaps defensively. “I don’t know. Why should I know?”

“You barely spoke to him. It seemed like…” she tries, seeming confused and frustrated.

“I don’t know!” Christian yells. “He’s not…I don’t know why!”

“Don’t antagonize him,” Christian hears his momma order, but he’s already turning back to his room. Not like the door closing prevents him from hearing them out there.

“What?” he can hear his sister ask their mom, defensive herself now. “I was just asking. The guy says they haven’t known each other long and they barely spoke. Christian didn’t even seem to like the guy.”

“I think it’s hard to tell right now what Christian thinks,” his momma says, her voice closer now and then the springs of the couch squeak.

He hears his sister huff as he sits down against the door to listen to them talk about him. He wants to know if they noticed anything between him and Steve, if they suspect why Steve is really here.

But what he hears next is on a different topic. “Do you really think that they picked up Mr. Morgan?” Jenny asks.

“Of course,” his momma says immediately. Too quickly, Christian thinks. “He won’t bother us again.”

“Course,” Jenny replies hesitantly. “I was just thinking maybe, I mean, is Christian really gonna go to court? Is it really worth it?”

“It’s out of our hands now,” his momma says, not acknowledging Jenny’s words which sting no matter how much Christian actually agrees with her.  
*****

The next morning, Christian stays in his room and no one tries to wake him up. He was up before eight but he prefers to just stay in his room despite the growling of his stomach. When he comes out though, at around ten, he’s surprised to see his momma still there. Normally Sundays are big at the diner with the after-church crowd. It’s why they used to go to early church at seven am. Jenny used to complain so much about it and eventually their momma let her stay home.  
  
Actually, he’s surprised that she hasn’t made him go to church yet. It’s just another thing that’s different, because of him, because he messed everything up.  
He remembers that Steve will be coming over later and David will come before that. He doesn’t want to see anyone but it’s clear no one cares what he wants. They all think that they know what is best for him, like he’s sick and everyone has a secret home remedy. Except what’s wrong with him can’t be fixed. He’s tried all kinds of things.  
  
There’s another surprise on the table for him. For the first time since he has been home, there’s only a box of cereal on the table and a bowl. His momma is the only one at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. Christian didn’t think that they got the newspaper delivered, not since his Dad died.

“Morning,” his momma greets him, looking up from the paper with a smile that he’s not sure is fake or not.

“Where’s Jenny,” he immediately asks, going straight to the fridge for the milk. For once, it feels like it did before he left before everything, being allowed to get things for himself and not being babied.

“She’s running some errands, but she’ll be back soon,” she reassures him as if he asked because he’s nervous without her here. Suddenly he is worried, worried that Mr. Morgan is still out there, worried about her being out alone with the police and everyone who undoubtedly knows about what he did.

He sits down at the table with the milk and pours himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. He even eats a spoonful of cereal, feeling more normal.

Speak of the devil, his sister suddenly opens the front door, carrying some groceries and talking on the phone at the same time. Even that feels normal.

He takes another bite. “Aren’t you going to work?” he asks with his mouth full.

“Not today, I’ve got the weekend off,” she answers.

Christian stops eating because he can read between the lines. She’s not at work because of him, because of how he acted on Friday night. He knows that she probably deserves time off, but he also knows that she can’t really afford it.

Christian startles when suddenly Jenny speaks from directly behind him. Jenny snorts in derision before saying, “Yeah, I’m sure he did it out of the goodness of his heart.”

Heartrate still clamoring in his chest, Christian watches as Jenny and their momma seem to be staring each other down, having some sort of argument that he doesn’t understand, that they don’t want him to understand.

The moment passes as Jenny puts the groceries away. But the argument isn’t quite over.

“I thought I told you not to get any groceries,” his momma says, voice deceptively mild.

“It’s just a few things,” Jenny responds.

It’s clear that neither is very happy but both let the matter drop then. Christian decides that he’s finished eating and goes to wash his bowl out. This time it’s Jenny who glares at him for not eating, but no one says anything.

“So, David is coming over for lunch today,” his momma comments out of the blue.

Christian doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels pressure that he has to be around other people. IT’s hard enough to be around his family at this point.

“It’s very nice of him to come. I hope that y’all can have a good time together like you used to,” she says.

He knows what she’s saying, don’t be a dick to him. He finds it strange that she’d talk to him about how it used to be. She never really saw him and David together, because David never came over to their house. She never saw a lot of things.

“I won’t yell at him,” Christian tries, before he runs into his room.

He goes back into his room and he can hear them talking and they don’t sound happy, but he can’t make it out, they’re probably back in the kitchen which is too far to hear. He wishes he had a tv in his room, but he ends up taking a nap.

He’s woken up by a knock on his door and then his momma’s voice, “Christian, come set the table.”

Chastened, Christian sits up immediately at her request, feeling guilty that he’s let her do all the work since he’s been home. He really should have been helping more, he’s sure there’s been dishes and laundry, cleaning.

Going to the bathroom first, he goes into the kitchen to help, trying to stay out of his mom’s way as he gets the plates and silverware. She’s hurrying around trying to make sure things are good. It feels odd, that she’d be trying so hard to impress Christian’s friends. He hasn’t seen her like this since Dad died. When they used to have Sunday suppers, she seemed a lot happier than she does now.

He flinches when the doorbell rings despite that he knows who it is. At least he thinks he knows.

He hesitates long enough for his mom to prompt him. “Hon, go let David in.”

His irrational fear must show on his face and he still hesitates despite knowing that she’s busy with other things with dinner, but she suddenly drops what she’s doing and takes off the oven mitt and goes to the door himself, leaving Christian standing there feeling stupid and worthless. He’s too scared to answer the door. What is he going to do when he can’t even answer the door?

It’s David, of course, at the door and his momma sounds very excited to see him. She probably wishes that David were her son instead of Christian. David is big and strong and unafraid and unashamed.

“Christian?”

Jumping at the sound, he spins around to see it’s Jenny behind him. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” she asks him as if he’s acting like a complete lunatic which he supposes he is.

He doesn’t need to go to the door though, by the time he turns around again, David has come over to him and his momma is heading back to the kitchen. The other teen is dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, no trace of Sunday clothes.

“Hey,” Christian tries. “You went to church?”

“Yeah,” David says. “Can’t wait til college so I won’t have to do that anymore,” he laughs a little.

Christian smiles reflexively, an old habit to copy David’s expressions even if he doesn’t get the joke. His momma doesn’t make him go anywhere anymore, too embarrassed of him probably. Having to get up early to go to church hasn’t entered his mind.

“Getting up early on the weekend sucks,” Christian says.

His momma is putting the chicken on the table and she motions them to sit down. It feels awkward. David has never had a meal here at his house despite the times that Christian ate at their house. The table feels small, just his momma and sister, both of them looking at David like they’ve never been so happy to see someone, both looking at him with calculation and worry in their eyes.

David’s house seemed full of people even though they were only a family of five. They just seemed happier.

“Thank you for inviting me for supper, Mrs. Kane,” David says politely. “Everything looks great.”

Of course, David knows exactly what to say and his momma seems almost flustered by praise. Christian can’t remember the last time that she cooked for company.

Of course, who knows what she might have done while he was gone, celebrate probably. It’s weird that he almost forgets that life went on in Oklahoma without him.

“Please dig in,” his momma says, passing the first dish to David.

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone focuses on filling their plate and eating. Christian keeps his eyes on his own plate, hoping that they’ll all just forget about him. He cuts up his chicken and doesn’t want to see anyone glaring at him for not eating all of it.

He’s not even surprised when David starts talking to him again. “Hey, have you been to that old pizza place we used to go to? It’s totally different now, actually clean and stuff. Pizza’s still good though.”

Christian keeps his eyes down, fiddling with his food. “No, I haven’t really gotten over there.”

“Oh, well we should go,” David continues. “It’s still the best place to hang out and everybody’s there. We could meet some of the guys.”

Christian kinda shrugs in response. He definitely does not want to go, but he doesn’t want to say no and have his momma argue with him.

David seems to finally sense that Christian isn’t interested and he finishes the point with, “Well, whenever you want to.”

“So, what are you up to now?” Jenny pops in. “Any plans to move from fabulous Oklahoma?”

She laughs a little and David does too. “Actually, yeah. I’m trying to save up some money working in one of my Dad’s friend’s office right now so I can move.”

“Yeah?” Jenny continues. “Where do you wanna go?”

David shifts as if uncomfortable, prompting Christian to look up to see why. “Well, to LA actually,” David says sheepishly. “Ya know, I used to think that one day we’d go together. We can, be roomies and all that.”

Christian is a little taken aback. He had no idea that David wanted to be an actor. And now…he couldn’t possibly go back to LA after everything, couldn’t possibly still be an actor with his past. David couldn’t possibly want to be stuck rooming with him. How could he possibly pay for his half? And besides, his momma will probably never trust him again.

Christian sucks in a horrified breath as he hears his fork hit the ground. He’s trembling slight and he knows that everyone can see but fortunately no one wants to ask about it. He keeps his eyes to himself as he picks up his fork and puts it back on the table, obviously not planning on eating anymore with it.

“Do you feel alright, honey?” his momma asks.

Christian’s eyes flick up and he can see David and his sister are both looking awkwardly away from him. “I’m finished,” he says sullenly.

David puts his own silverware on his plate then. “Yeah, I brought a football in my bag. If you wanna just throw it around in the yard?”

Christian is surprised again, expecting that David would just want to go hoe especially after his little scene. But he doesn’t even get a chance to answer as his momma speaks up, “That’d be great. Steve will be over in a few hours.”

She’s already clearing the plates, dismissing the two boys. David moves away from the table readily, going to grab his football. Christian has no choice but to get up himself.

There’s really no backyard, not like at Steve’s house, so they have to head to the front door. He really hasn’t been outside for anything since he’s been back, only when forced to go somewhere official. Now he’s worried for the first time about being seen. What have his neighbors seen? Or heard?

Emerging from the house, Christian feels like a hermit coming out of his cave into the sunlight. He’s only been at home a week, but it feels like he’s been trapped inside for far longer. He was afraid in LA, but here he’s scared of his momma, his sister, of JDM, of everyone in the whole town.

He feels exposed out here, not like even at Steve’s house where it was just Steve and high fences and trees blocking others’ view. He feels like every window here is hiding someone’s prying eyes.

He’s not paying attention to David when the ball hits him in the back.

David laughs, “Hey, c’mon…”

Christian smiles himself as he picks it up. Throwing it back comes easily, his fingers molded around the shape of the ball, fingertips touching the laces. He may not be an athlete any more but his pathetic muscles remember.

David catches it easily, swiveling around in a circle before throwing it back. Christian has to jump for this one, making David laugh again as he’s always been taller than Christian and now he’s even more pronounced.

“So, you haven’t really gotten around town yet?” David asks. “Guess you don’t really have a ride, huh?”

“Yeah, no,” Christian replies. “Not unless I wanna go hang out with my sister.”

David laughs and it feels normal, normal as things have ever felt, Christian supposes. Christian smiles but it’s dim as he looks around to see if they’ve attracted any attention.

“Some of the guys know you’re back. They wanna hang out sometime,” David ventures nonchalantly.

“How do they know?” Christian asks, holding the ball forgetfully in his hands.

“It’s a small town,” David explains, but then he stops for a second, putting his hands on his hips. When he continues, it’s obvious that it’s something he doesn’t necessarily want to say. “The police have been talking to a lot of the guys from the wrestling team.”

“W-what?” Christian says, stunned, the ball dropping from his suddenly lax fingers. “Do they…they know?”

David is the one to look around now, making sure that no one else is watching. It makes Christian feel even more ashamed that even David doesn’t really want to be seen with him. But, why would he? David has always been the perfect boy.

“They know what Coach Morgan is accused of,” David says vaguely.

“Accused?” Christian asks breathlessly, stunned at the idea that David doesn’t even believe him.

“No,” David says vehemently taking a step toward Christian before stopping. “Of course, I believe you. But the police aren’t really saying, and…people just talk, you know.”

Christian does know. Everybody talks. Everybody knew for years that they were poor, that his momma was struggling. He always knew that David knew why Christian never invited him over. But for them to be talking about this…about him having sex? He’s barely left the house, but he should have known that wouldn’t stop everyone from knowing. And he’s dragged Michael into it too.

“Hey,” David says, getting his attention and clapping his hands for the ball. “Don’t worry about them. A lot of the guys really want to see you. And everybody knew Coach was a little off.”

Christian complies and throws the football back. He’s wondering what everyone felt was ‘off’ about the Jeff. He tries to let it go, tries to get back into just mindlessly throwing the football, but his brain is still turning the words over and over. Whatever calm he was feeling before has disappeared.

David tries to keep up the conversation by himself. “Almost everybody is going to Oklahoma U and staying in town. I just don’t see the point of going to college. Most of the guys are just gonna take over their father’s business, the farm or whatever. There’s no point wasting time on that, I don’t think.”

Christian nods, silently agreeing. What is the point of him getting his GED or anything if no one is ever gonna hire him to do anything besides flip burgers anyway. Maybe David will help convince his momma.

“Wayne’s really the only one from the team going away. He actually got into (good school?), but he always did care more about school than the rest of us,” David says with a laugh.

Christian doesn’t laugh along with him this time. He can’t really remember if Wayne really liked school or anything. Going to school with all these people just seems so long ago. They’ve all moved on to bigger and better things and he’s still stuck here in his momma’s house like a child. He came back and it’s like no time passed at all for him.

“He did win at state our senior year too,” David continues. “We had a good season this last year, but I’m not sure about their chances this year. I mean, Riley’s pretty good, but even so, the rest of the team may not be enough.”

Christian wonders if losing Coach Morgan has anything to do with it, but he doesn’t get to really think about before his attention is taken by some kids running out of the house down the street. Their mom is running after them, calling to them to come back inside. She looks up at them, at Christian, as she shepherds the complaining kids back inside.

Christian doesn’t know what to say now. He wants to just run away, wants to go back to LA where he was just invisible. His mood is sinking, but before he can get really defensive, a car pulls into the driveway.

For a second, Christian’s heart stops. He doesn’t want to see anyone. But then it’s Steve that gets out of the car, his California hippie style so out of place here. Christian feels like there’s a spotlight on him suddenly, like everyone can see everything that’s wrong with him in how different Steve looks. Steve reminds everyone of how Christian ran away, of how he doesn’t fit in, of how gay he is.

Steve smiles at the two other teens even though he doesn’t really feel happy. He feels jealous even though he knows that’s stupid. Christian needs other friends. But then again, does he need friends who didn’t notice, who weren’t there for him when all of that was going on?

He heads over to them, looking at Christian to see if he’s actually having fun when suddenly the football is coming at him. Steve fumbles the ball, his fingers clumsily tipping the ball away from him so it drops on the ground.

David laughs, “Guess you don’t wanna throw the ball around.”

Steve wants to punch the guy in the face. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t know it was coming. He’s not entirely unathletic.

Christian doesn’t even note the tension between the two other teens as he takes the suggestion to go back inside. He makes it to the door right behind Mrs. Carlson who’s greeting his momma.

“Yeah, let’s go inside for a while,” he calls back at the other two teens.

Steve hurries over to follow Christian inside, as if it somehow matters being first. But inside the house are both of their moms and Jennifer and now David. He’s come all the way from California but feels he hasn’t had any time to see what’s happening with Christian. Just the other night, Christian seemed totally traumatized but now it’s like business as usual and no one seems to care about what happened.

“Are y’all hungry?” Mrs. Kane asks them from the kitchen. “We’re just gonna have some sandwiches and leftovers for dinner.”

“That’s fine, ma’am,” David speaks up first. He’s tossing the football lazily in his hands and Steve almost wants to tell him not to play with the ball inside the house.

“It’ll be ready in a little while,” Mrs. Kane says with a smile towards the polite teen.

“Do you want to play a game?” Steve suggests, happy to finally have some time. “Or cards?”

“Naw,” Christian deflects as he heads to sit on the couch. “We can just watch tv for a while.”

Christian feels done with talking to anyone. He just wants to be alone, to hide back in his room, but he knows that he’s not allowed to do that.

Steve’s a little put out that his ideas were shut down in front of David. He wonders whether he should have come at all. Maybe he’s just in the way. Maybe David is the friend that Christian needs and not him. The only good thing is that at least Christian’s sister is staying in the kitchen tonight. David must be enough protection, he supposes.

Christian sits down on the couch with David in the chair to his left. But that leaves Steve sitting down next to him, the couch cushions tilting, sliding the two teens closer together. Christian knows he’s being rude as he keeps his face toward the other direction. He fiddles with the remote.

He stops it on the first tv sitcom he finds, hoping that the silence will last. But it’s only a few minutes before his momma is calling them all to supper.

Christian can barely look at his food. He feels like everyone is just staring at him, everyone waiting for him to do something like a trained monkey. The only good thing is that dinner is over quickly, just sandwiches and leftovers after eating such a large lunch.

But just like back Steve’s house, Mrs. Carlson gives him a break. “Steve, did you bring in that movie we rented?” she asks early into the misery.

Steve’s thankful too for his mom’s constant politeness. “Yeah, I put it in your purse,” he replies before turning his attention back to Christian. “I rented District 9. It’s supposed to be awesome.”

David noisily swallows before interjecting, “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Steve closes his eyes, trying to ignore the other teen and not take his attention from Christian. “You want to watch it?”

Christian is only too happy to take the way out and he puts his fork and knife on his plate to grab the DVD case, ready to call this finished. Steve follows suit hastily, his silverware clanging on the ceramic plates. David still has food in his mouth, but he grabs another bite before standing.

Steve sits beside him again, but Christian figures if the movie is really that good then they’ll all be looking at the screen and not looking at him and how close he is to the other boy. He just hopes that Steve also keeps his distance.

Christian can barely remember how the remote works to turn on the DVD player. It’s like a glaring sign over his head reminding everyone that he ran away, that he doesn’t belong here. But then like a gift from God, the stupid thing comes on, the FBI warning covering the small screen.

But he doesn’t get to just settle into the movie, mindlessly. While the previews are playing, Steve leans a little closer and starts talking in a low voice.

Steve doesn’t want the women still in the kitchen talking to hear, but he can’t wait anymore to find out what is going on. “So, things are ok, after…you know, since the Coach came by?” Steve asks.

Christian shifts guiltily as he vaguely remembers the conversation with Steve on the phone that night. “Yeah, it’s fine. You didn’t have to come just because…”

“Of course, I had to come,” Steve insists. “He’s…that man harassed you.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Christian insists automatically, frowning as he tries to remember if Jeff had said anything, had done anything.

“What’s happening to him? Shouldn’t he be in jail?” Steve keeps talking over Christian’s objection, over the beginning of the movie.

Christian is quiet. He doesn’t really want to talk about the restraining order, doesn’t want to talk about putting his one-time mentor, his lover in jail.

But David is not quiet. “Coach was picked up over the weekend, but he didn’t stay in jail. He got out without seeing a judge or anything.”

Steve is flabbergasted, but he can’t decide which he’s more surprised at, that a man accused of molesting, raping a young boy got out of jail with a slap on the wrist or that David seems to know exactly what’s going on.

Christian just feels ashamed, like he’s betrayed Jeff somehow, betrayed his family as well by causing this drama. But Steve can’t stop.

“How did he get out? Are they not putting him on trial?” Steve asks, his desire for more knowledge winning out.

“They haven’t charged him with anything yet really,” David explains, the movie forgotten in the background. “Still investigating, I guess.”

“Wha…what’re they doing?” Christian ventures.

“Well, people are saying…they’ve look in the Coach’s house. I heard they even took some stuff out, you know, in one of those investigation van. And I told you they’ve been asking a lot of wrestlers questions, some of their parents.”

“But what exactly are they being asked?” Steve continues.

Now David looks a little uncomfortable giving up the information. Christian braces for the worst. “I said it gets around, but a lot of the guys have been questioned. They’re asking, you know, if they saw anything between you and Jeff.”

Christian closes his eyes, totally ashamed, afraid both that they saw something and that they didn’t.

“And they ask about how you…your relationship with the Coach,” David continues.

Opening his eyes suddenly, Christian blurts out, “Your relationship with the coach?”

“Yeah,” David agrees confused. “Alex, you remember? He’s freaked out, telling everybody about every time Coach touched him.”

“Did he?” Christian and Steve both blurt out the question at much the same time.

David frowns and shakes his head. “No, he’s just paranoid,” he deflects. “The guys on the current team are more pissed, I guess. They think they can’t win without the Coach. This kid, Riley is their best guy now, but he apparently had a fit when the police wanted to talk to him.”

Christian’s mind is going to how they must all blame him. He wonders what he would think if a policeman had come to talk to him when he was on Jeff’s team. Would he have admitted what was going on? Would he have been mad to have the secret revealed when he thought he was coping?

“They’re mad about not winning,” Steve blurts out, indignation pulsing through every word. “Are you fucking kidding?”

Suddenly remembering where he is and who’s nearby, Steve abruptly shuts his mouth, listening for any rebuke from his mom about his language. But he’s still seething. Who worries about fucking sports when a kid was being abused?

After a long moment of silence, Steve tries again in a harsh whisper, “Seriously. There seem to be at least two victims here and they’re worried about a sport?”  
David looks a tad embarrassed and Steve counts that as a win. Christian keeps his face down to his lap, and Steve thinks maybe he’s gone too far, but he can’t help himself. It needed to be said.

“People don’t know what to think,” David cautiously admits.

Steve’s got his mouth open, another angry retort about to come spitting out, but his mom interrupts.

She’s suddenly standing behind the couch with her hand on his shoulder. “Steve, did you want to finish the movie? It’s getting late.”

Steve looks up at the screen for the first time in probably forty-five minutes. It’s only halfway through the movie but they haven’t watched any of it. He knows better than to argue at this point though. She undoubtedly did hear some of their conversation or at least, heard the heated tone of it. He wouldn’t normally act like this in someone else’s house normally.

Reluctantly, he gets up. “Yeah, I’m ready. I’ve seen it before, but you can keep it if you want. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says before turning to his mom. “When can we come back?”

“We’ll come over after breakfast,” she tells him, with a look back at Christian’s mom like they’ve already talked about this.

Steve nods and raises his hand to wave goodbye to the other two teens. David doesn’t look like he’s quite ready to leave yet.

Steve keeps his mouth shut long enough for the car to pull out of the driveway before he unleashes his rage. “This town is so ass-backwards!” he starts. “These stupid kids are more concerned about themselves and winning sports stuff than anybody else!”

“Steve, calm down,” his mom tells him calmly as she drives.

“It’s ridiculous!” Steve cries, even more angry that she’s not agreeing with him about how fucked this is. “Christian’s life is ruined and they’re worried about winning games! It’s not just Christian, that guy Michael too, and probably more, and they just don’t care!”

“Steve,” his mom tries again with more irritation in his voice. “Don’t yell at me.”

Crossing his arms, Steve sits back in a huff. “It’s so fucking stupid,” he says in a lower voice.

His mom gives a big, audible sigh. “Stop with the language,” she says firmly.

Steve huffs louder. It’s so unfair. Why is she not as angry as he is? He’s literally stewing. By the time they pull in at the hotel, Steve bolts immediately from the car. He wants to get away from her, to be alone for just a fucking second, but there isn’t even a door he can slam. Using his keycard, he goes immediately into the bathroom.

The shower is already running but he hears his mom come into the room several minutes later. He’s so annoyed that his shower takes practically thirty minutes of just standing under the hot water. It feels like he’s the only one who cares. He knows Jensen would say that’s why he’s here, no matter how hard it is.

Steve is out of the shower and wrapping himself in a towel before he thinks about masturbating. It seems like it’s been forever since he was with Christian. He feels like he’s had no time with Christian, and he’s been so worried about everyone else. He guesses this is what else Jensen was right about. Now isn’t really the time for romance. He can still see Christian underneath him, but he should think of it. That image doesn’t just come to him whenever he closes his eyes.

Sighing, Steve comes out in a cloud of steam to go get fresh clothes from his bag. He keeps his eyes away from his mom and goes back to the bathroom to dress and brush his teeth. They spend the night quietly, him watching tv and his mom reading on her kindle.  
**************

The next morning, Christian wakes up and just lies in his bed. He doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to go out, doesn’t want to see anyone, ever again. He’s so tired. It’s just been one thing after another, person after person who wants to see him, wants him to act normal.

No one else is normal either, no matter how much they pretend. His momma has been at home all the time, losing money she’s pretending they don’t need. His sister is babysitting him as if he’s still twelve when she has her own place, her own life. David is acting like all his other friends and wrestlers aren’t pissed as hell. Even Steve, acting like it’s totally normal to fly half across the country for some guy he only slept with once.

He waits until his bladder is literally killing him and then he listens at his door before he goes out. He just wants to go unnoticed for a second. Fortunately, though his momma calls out a good morning to him, she doesn’t say anything as he goes back to his room from the bathroom.

But he knows that Steve is coming over soon. It feels like only a few minutes when Jenny is knocking on his door. Petulantly, he doesn’t answer, just smooshes his face deeper into the pillow.

Unsurprisingly, the knocking just gets louder, and his sister’s voice yells through the door. “Chris?” she yells. “Chris, I’m coming in.”

She waits only another second before opening the door. Popping just her head in at first, she sees that he’s just lying on his bed and opens the door more fully.

“Chris, Steve’ll be here in a few minutes. Mom has to go to meet with her boss so I’ll be in charge, ok?”

“Is Steve’s mom coming?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, she’ll be here,” Jenny says before moving away, leaving the door open.

“Then why are you in charge?” Christian asks even though there’s no one there to hear him.

Dragging himself out of bed, he pulls on just a t-shirt and basketball shorts, limited in what still fits. Finally, he leaves his room to brush his teeth and wash his face.

When he makes it to the kitchen, the cereal is on the table, but fortunately, his momma seems too rushed to care if he eats.

“Ok, you’ve got stuff to make sandwiches,” his momma lists out her preparations as she’s wiping the counters clean. “I don’t know if I’ll be back in time for dinner, but I’ve left some money for pizza. Don’t leave Christian here alone, even to get dinner, Jenny.”

“Isn’t Steve’s mom coming?” Christian asks again, not understanding all of this concern.

“Yes,” his momma answers in a harried voice, as if his mere question is burdening her too much. “But I just want one of us with you.”

She says it like it’s not a big deal, but it’s ridiculous to him. “I’m not fourteen still,” he snaps indignantly.

That makes her stop what she’s doing for a moment. Her face is pained as she looks at him. “I know. But I just want someone I trust.”

Christian’s eyes drop to the table as he tries to ignore the implications. He feels guilty now. He blamed her, but he knows that she didn’t realize that Jeff was…untrustworthy. Everyone trusted Jeff, but no one trusts him. He seduced the Coach, and hit Michael, and ran away. It’s all his fault, not hers.

There’s a knock on the door then and this time, Christian expects it when Steve is behind the door. He notices when the other teen’s blue eyes seek him out immediately though he’s still all the way in the kitchen. It makes Christian feel both happy to be noticed and ashamed because of why.

His momma and Jenny extend the requisite niceties and the Carlson’s move further into the house and closer to Christian.

“Ok,” his momma is going back over the preparations, and it’s obvious that she’s already told them that she’ll be leaving. “We’ve got sandwich stuff for lunch.”

“Oh,” Steve’s mom interrupts. “That’s great, or I thought we could go out for lunch. Maybe Christian wants to get out of the house.”

“That’s fine,” his momma answers. “I left Jenny some money so all four of you can go…”

“G-go out?” Christian stutters out. “I can’t…”

“It’s fine,” his momma responds, obviously misunderstanding his objection. “I’ve left enough money…”

It just makes Christian more frustrated. “No, I’m not going,” he barks. “Y’all can just leave me here.”

“Christian,” his momma says seriously. “You are not to be left by yourself. It’s just lunch. Why don’t you…?”

“The Coach won’t be around,” Jenny breaks in. “And you haven’t been out of this house practically the whole time.”

“I’m not a little kid!” Christian explodes, standing up from the table. “I don’t need y’all to tell me what to do! I’m not going!”

Steve doesn’t know what to do so he stays quiet as Christian is already pissed at his family for trying to help him.

“Fine, Christian. We’ll stay here,” Christian’s momma tries to placate him, but he’s too riled up.

“It’s not fine!” Christian yells back. “Nothing’s fine! You think I want to go out to lunch where everyone is going to stare at me?! Everyone in this stupid fucking town knows about me. They all think of me like that police guy!”

“Christian, not everyone knows. And you’re the victim here. It wasn’t your fault,” Christian’s momma’s words don’t sound as if even she believes them.

“Stop saying that!” Christian interrupts. “I’m not an idiot. I lived in LA by myself for two years. I hate it here! I hate you!”

Christian is stunned by his own outburst and he runs immediately into his room, slamming his door behind him. He locks the door, knowing his momma will hate that and then throws himself on his bed. He doesn’t ever want to come out again, doesn’t ever want to see anyone ever again. How could his momma think that he could just go out? How can she still be so clueless?

Steve jumps when the door slams, speechless at what’s happened. He can’t imagine how Christian feels right now. He’s only reminded of how upset Christian was that night he got drunk at Jason’s house.

Christian’s mom is rubbing her face with her hands, clearly upset, and Jennifer has her hands on her hips.

Steve starts to feel like he understands what his mom was talking about. As much as he wants to push past Christian’s family members, to knock on Christian’s door himself and convince him to come out. Instead he just feels awkward, intruding on this moment in their family. It does seem like Christian’s mom cares.

Christian misinterpreted everything his mom said. But still Steve’s sympathies are only with the other teenager. How can anyone deal with what Christian has been through?

Steve’s mom puts her hand on his shoulder, as if to hold him back. Christian’s mom seems to be gathering herself, calming herself. After a long moment, she moves toward Christian’s door.

Knocking calmly, she calls through the door. “Christian, please. You don’t have to go anywhere. But please come out. I need to go to work, but I want to make sure you’re ok before I go.”

“Go!” Christian’s voice comes through the door. “I’m fine.”

“Please come out, Christian,” his mom responds immediately.

But it’s quickly clear that Christian is not coming out. Soon she is stepping away from the door with a sigh. She looks hunched and Steve feels sorry for her too suddenly.

Jennifer says, “Mom, just go. I’ll be here.”

But she just shakes her head in response. “I can’t just leave him when he’s that upset. Not after…everything.”

She steps back further then to sit in the armchair by the tv. Then it’s as if she suddenly remembers them. “I am so sorry about this. Maybe…”

Steve’s mom doesn’t let her finish that sentence as she sweeps over to sit on the couch. “It’s fine. It’s understandable that he’d have outburst of anger.”  
Pam kinda snorts, replying, “He never used to be this way. He hasn’t had this kind of tantrum since he was a toddler.”

Steve’s mom smiles a little. “This one here used to have a few screaming fits in his preteen years,” she says nodding over at Steve.

Pam smiles a little. “Yeah, I guess Jenny had a few herself,” she responds. But then her smile disappears again. “I just worry that he’s upset enough to make himself sick or something. I don’t know how to help or what to say. I guess…I guess I didn’t realize…”

Steve’s mom starts to nod, but she doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Pam is speaking again.

“And how can I blame him for his anger? Sometimes I want to have a tantrum myself. I’m so angry, and how do I keep that from him?”

“You need to have a little time for you too. I know you don’t want your anger to be misinterpreted by him,” Steve’s mom soothes.

But this time Pam shakes her head no, before getting up again. Jenny is still standing there looking frustrated and as awkward as Steve himself feels.  
She knocks again on the door. “Christian, please open the door. I really need to see you so I can go to work.”

She waits there and Steve feels like they’re all holding their breath. If he had been that upset, Steve can’t say that he’d be ready to come out yet. But then the door opens, and Christian’s face appears in the slim opening, red and ruddy with emotion.

“There,” he says, his voice thick from crying but trying for still angry. “You can go.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” she says. “We can talk more later, ok?”

She pauses there, her hand flinching like she means to touch the teenager, but Christian disappears back into the room. “Keep your door open, please.”

Steve doesn’t hear any response from Christian just the disappearance of his face from the doorway. His mom still appears sad and frustrated as she finally moves away from his room. Jenny follows her to the front door.

Still feeling awkward and not sure where to go, Steve can’t help overhearing their conversation. “Just let him be if he wants to stay in his room. I don’t know if he will want me to work tonight so I may be back in a few hours or I may not be back until late tonight,” Christian’s mom says.

Jenny doesn’t seem happy with some portion of what her mom is saying. But all she says is, “Fine.”

Steve doesn’t really know what to do as Christian’s mom is leaving. He drifts over to Christian’s door, but his mom has stood up from the couch and stops him.

“Let’s leave him a minute,” she says, seemingly content with the fact that the door is open.

Jenny has come over now, definitely carrying an air of being in charge now that her mother has left. “Would you like some lunch? We’ve got sandwiches.”

Steve’s mom smiles congenially. “That sounds great. We’ll help you,” she says, pushing Steve over to the kitchen.

But Jenny also leans into the opening of Christian’s room. “Come to lunch,” she says, but it’s clear that Christian isn’t getting up.

She doesn’t push the issue though, instead simply going into the kitchen. She seems to want to keep the two ‘strangers’ out of his room too as she gets their attention. “What kind of sandwiches do y’all want? We have turkey and ham,” she explains as she’s getting out bread and plates and mayonnaise.

Steve obligingly heads over to the counter, saying, “I can make it myself. No need for you to have to do it.”

Jenny obliges, stepping aside as he and his mother make a couple of sandwiches. Steve is hungry despite himself, the breakfast at the hotel is gross, but he feels awkward as he sits down at the table, knowing that Christian can still hear and probably see them. He waits as his mom and Jennifer sit down at the table too.

Jennifer picks at her food as Steve digs in. “So y’all are here for just a week?” she asks. “Planning to see anything?”

Steve struggles to swallow his food, but his mom answers for them. “Yes, just a week. We just want to make sure we keep in touch and Steve was very upset after Christian’s phone call on Friday.”

Jennifer seems surprised that Sandy actually mentions Friday night. Steve thinks that she’d rather not talk about this with them. “Y’all must’ve gotten close. Hard to believe that Chris only stayed with y’all for a week.”

Steve feels even more awkward, but he jumps in to answer before his mom, “He needed our help. Well, not for himself, for someone else. If it weren’t for helping that woman, I don’t think he would have accepted our help.”

Jenny takes a bite of her sandwich as she appears to mull that over. “Yeah, momma mentioned something about the woman, and her kids.”

“He was really great to her,” Steve tries to make her understand. “I mean, I don’t know a lot about how he really lived…on the street or anything. He met her in the big park in LA, I guess they were all staying in there.”

“Seems like nobody knows what he did living there,” Jennifer responds ruefully.

Steve thinks about what little Mary actually told him about Christian when they went to see her. He takes another large bite of his sandwich. That’s definitely not something he wants to share with Christian family.

A sandwich doesn’t take very long to eat and soon, Steve is staring at his plate while the two women finish up. He’s already trying to figure out how he’ll approach Christian. He didn’t come all the way down here not to spend any time with the kid, especially after that blowout. In a way though, Steve is happy to have seen it. The tantrum seems to imply that Christian is comfortable here, more comfortable showing his emotions than at Steve’s house.

Then again, Steve is starting to feel a little useless. He takes his and his momma’s plate to the kitchen sink, but Jennifer is there in an instant.

“I’ve got it,” she says, asserting her control over this space again.

But it works out well, because then Steve is free to approach Christian’s room without her over his shoulder. He heads there immediately and though he doesn’t look back, he’s pretty sure Jennifer is pissed.

He pushes open the door a little and sees Christian lying face down on the bed. Steve squeezes in through the door, trying not to open the gap any wider for any privacy they can get. Christian doesn’t stir though Steve knows he hasn’t been quiet.

Steve doesn’t know what to do then though. He’s certain the two women are trying to listen to them and doesn’t want to upset Christian. But there’s nowhere else to sit and he doesn’t want to stand and talk to the other teen, so he cautiously sits on the bed beside Christian’s legs.

“Hey,” Steve starts stupidly, leaning over a little to try to see Christian’s face smushed in the mattress. “Are you ok?”

Christian shifts a little but doesn’t answer. He feels too stupid that anyone saw how he acted, and he stupidly hopes that Steve will just get the message and go home. He’s not worth all of this effort.

Coming to a sudden decision, Steve decides not to walk on eggshells around Christian so he lies back on the bed. There’s still a good bit of space between them at least.

“Jensen says hey. He wishes he could come but he figures Jared could get in a lot of trouble in a week,” Steve starts, tucking one hand behind his head. He doesn’t really expect an answer. “I’m sure I’ll come back here sometime though, so maybe they can come next time.”

Christian can’t help turning his face a little to look bewildered at the other teen. What in the hell is Steve thinking? Why would the others come? Why would he want to see Jared?

Steve smiles a little. “Come on, Jensen’s cool. And Jared isn’t that bad.”

Christian can’t help finally speaking his mind. “I barely know them. I barely know you.”

Steve doesn’t really know what to say to that, since it is true. But he keeps the small smile on his face and responds, “But you just can’t get rid of me.”

Christian sighs at the nonanswer. He’s getting tired of not being answered. He’s getting tired of everyone knowing things that he doesn’t.

Steve feels bad so he says seriously, “I care about you. I didn’t want to see you homeless. I don’t want to see you hurt and harassed, and…and judged.”

Christian actually turns over a little, interested in the other teen’s words. “But you don’t know me. Why do you care?”

“Because nobody deserves that,” Steve says.

Steve’s about to keep going, to mention the way that Christian helped the mom and her kids, but Christian suddenly turns over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about Steve’s simple answer. Steve stays quiet, thinking about it himself. In the end, he doesn’t care because of Mary and her kids. Even if Christian wasn’t a great guy, he didn’t deserve what happened to him, doesn’t deserve what’s happening now. And it’s not just how Christian helped Mary that made Steve fall for the Oklahoman teen.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks again after a moment of silence. “After Friday? You never really answered.”

Christian keeps his eyes on the ceiling as he thinks about his answer. “Sorry for calling you. And you came all the way out here…”

“No,” Steve says, a little too loudly. “No, I want you to call, if it makes you feel better,” he says in a quieter voice. “What did he want?”

Christian shrugs as much as he can while lying down. That night is really a blur, but he clearly remembers Jeff’s face. Jeff looked like he always did. He looked like he cared. He looked sad when Christian didn’t respond to him. “I think he just wanted to see if I was ok.”

“I can’t believe he came by here,” Steve says, his own feelings coloring his words. “And when your mom was gone.”

Christian feels uncomfortable with the outrage in Steve’s voice. He doesn’t like Jeff being talked about like that. Jeff cared, and took care of him, and gave him opportunities when he didn’t have any. He’s the one who fucked it up. But then again, the idea of defending Jeff makes his skin crawl.

“I don’t think he meant to…make me feel bad,” Christian tries.

Christian can feel the weight of Steve’s eyes on him. He doesn’t want to make it seem like he loved what Jeff did to him, doesn’t want Steve to know he’s a slut despite that he knows Steve already knows he’s a slut.

Steve frowns, “You mean, he didn’t…come here to intimidate you, like into dropping the charges?”

Now Christian frowns. “I can’t drop the charges, it’s not up to me. They didn’t even ask me. And Jeff wouldn’t…do that.”

Steve doesn’t even get that. It’s like the Coach doesn’t realize he did anything wrong. It’s like Christian isn’t sure that the Coach did anything wrong.

After a moment of thought, Steve asks, “So you haven’t really been in touch with the police and stuff about the case?”

“No,” Christian snaps. “I don’t know why they’re doing all this.”

I’m not worth it, lies unsaid, but that doesn’t mean that they both don’t hear it. But that’s not what hits Steve most about Christian’s words.

“But then why did you leave? Do you think there are any other boys that he,” Steve shrugs as he searches for the words, “hurt?”

Christian’s face suddenly turns to stone and he turns away from Steve before answering. “I don’t know,” he says simply.

Christian does know the answer to the question, but he does not know how to answer it. They’re all so focused on prosecuting Jeff for things that they did together. How can he say how betrayed, how jealous he felt when Jeff pushed him aside? How can he explain how he left rather than stop Jeff from doing it to some other young boy? If Jeff has touched anyone else, it’s his own fault.

Steve isn’t sure what he said that bothered the other teen. Though, he supposes that the whole thing is upsetting to Christian. “Hey, don’t worry. They’ll find something. They’ll get him,” he comforts sliding closer to Christian’s back.

“I don’t want to get him,” Christian says, curling himself tighter as he feels Steve’s warmth at his back. He is afraid that the other teen will get closer.

Steve is even more confused. “Then why did you leave?”

“I just, couldn’t…” Christian’s breath starts to get faster as he feels like Steve is bearing down on him. He suddenly sits up trying to get away, his anxiety making him use the truth as a weapon again. “He wanted someone else, ok? I was too old, I guess. But I couldn’t just…I wouldn’t help him and I wouldn’t just watch him with someone else.”

Steve is sitting up now too, feeling terrible that he’s made Christian upset. He doesn’t want Christian to bolt, to feel too uncomfortable in his own room. “Sorry, I just…wanted to know. I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s not your fault, you know? You did what you had to.”

Christian keeps his back to Steve and the bed, his arms tight around his chest. He feels guilty again for his anger. Steve doesn’t understand how he feels, nobody understands.

“Hey, did you want to…” Steve starts but he stops when he hears the door open.

Christian turns at the noise, too. And soon Steve is following him out of the bedroom. Steve sees his mom get up from the couch, but Jennifer is already heading toward her mother.

Steve’s mom speaks up first. “Well, I suppose that we’ll leave you all now. I hate to be a bother and be underfoot every night all week. But we’ll be back tomorrow around lunch?”

Christian’s mom is all smiles, ignoring her daughter who seems to want her attention to answer the other mom. “That sounds great.”

But Jennifer doesn’t seem like she will be ignored for long, “Why are you back so early? Did you talk to him?”

“Yes, Jenny. He said he didn’t need me tonight,” Christian’s mom diverts her attention to her daughter as Steve’s mom is motioning for Steve to say goodbye to Christian. But Christian is also paying attention to his sister.

“But didn’t you tell him that you needed to get back to work?” Jenny presses, presses as if she already knows the answers.

“Yes, but…”

“He can’t spare you another night,” Jenny interrupts. “He said he couldn’t spare you the nights that he did give you.”

Now Pam seems stern as she says, “Jenny, just wait a minute.”

“He fired you,” Jenny crowds. “I knew it. I knew that snake would.”

“You were fired?” Christian speaks up from across the room.

His mom is no longer smiling, but she doesn’t answer. She looks to Steve and his mom again. “I’m sorry. We can discuss things after the Carlsons leave. I’m sure they’re ready to spend some time away from us for a while.”

Steve is surprised, wanting to know what’s going on, but his mom’s face suddenly becomes complacent and she herds Steve towards the door with one hand.

“Yes, we will see you all tomorrow,” Steve’s mom says again.

Steve looks back one time at Christian. The other teen’s face looks completely shell-shocked, white as a sheet. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to remind himself that this is not his decision.

Christian flinches as the front door closes. He’s shocked at the idea of his momma losing her job. But the two women in the room aren’t stunned. Jennifer seems angry as she takes a few steps away from their momma.

“That snake!” she cries. “What reason did he give? Did he say you were spending too much time caring for your son? Or did he just admit that he’s firing you in revenge for that stupid Coach getting what he deserves?”

It’s as angry as Christian has seen his sister since he returned. But their momma just looks tired suddenly, sighing and wiping her face with her hands.

“You yelling about it doesn’t help anyone, certainly not me,” their momma says tiredly. She begins to walk towards the kitchen.

Christian doesn’t want to have their anger and attention on him, but he has to know exactly what happened. “You were fired?” he asks, his throat feeling like it’s closing up on him.

His momma looks at him and it’s clear that she doesn’t want to answer any more questions. He already feels guilty.

“Yes, but it’s going to be fine,” she says, but her voice lends no strength to her conviction. “I’ve got lots of experience as a waitress now so I can find another job.”

Christian’s eyes fill with tears and he can feel his lips begin to tremble even as he tries not to cry. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…I knew you didn’t have time to be home with me. And you bought so much stuff…I can leave. I’m sorry.”

His eyes are too full of tears so his momma looks blurry as she comes over to him. “Chris, it’s not your fault. It’s going to be fine.”

“I sh-should have stayed away,” Christian cries louder. “I shouldn’t be here. You should have left me in the hospital.”

“Chris, sweetheart,” his momma says, pulling him into her.

But he doesn’t deserve her comfort so he breaks away. He’s crying full-out now and having a hard time breathing as he runs into his room. He ruined everything. They can’t afford for her to be out of work.

He should just run away again. She’d never ask him to leave, but he’s ruined everything. He never should have let Jeff touch him. Or he should have just let Jeff do whatever he wanted without running away like a coward. Or he should…he should have done something.

His shoulders shake as he lays on his bed, curled into himself. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, but eventually there’s a soft knock at the door. He just manages to sit up, wiping his eyes on his covers before the door opens. It’s his momma.

Christian ducks his face, knowing that his face is puffy and red from tears that he doesn’t want her to see. He’s ashamed of how his mistake is affecting everyone.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” his momma asks gently as he steps into the room. “C’mon, sweetie, why don’t you come out here and have some dinner?”

Christian sniffle and tries to speak, but the air gets stuck in his throat. He doesn’t want to cry anymore so he tries to blink away the tears and get the words out. “Not…hungry,” he says.

She reaches over then and touches his hair, but he turns his head away. “Come on out and we’ll watch a movie,” she tries again. But this time she steps away, motioning to him so he knows she’s serious. “Come on.”

Angrily, Christian gets up and follows her into the living room. He slumps down on the couch as he realizes that she’s already made them a couple of plates of food and left them there on the coffee table. Then he realizes there’s only two plates.

“Where’s Jenny?” he asks, sullenly.

“She’s spending the night with her boyfriend tonight. It’s just the two of us,” she says, cheerily.

Christian is a little stunned. He totally forgot about Jenny’s boyfriend. She’s been stuck here with him all this time. He hopes he hasn’t ruined their relationship along with everyone else. He hopes he hasn’t ruined her dance scholarship and what about her apartment? Her tuition?

His momma is looking through their movies in the cabinet under the tv, but Christian doesn’t care about the movie. He still cares about her job.

“What is going to happen to her tuition if you don’t have a job? What happens to us?” he asks, trying not to choke up again.

“Don’t worry about that honey,” she says without missing a beat. “We’re going to be fine. Now which movie do you want to see?”

Christian doesn’t care about the movie and he pulls his knees to his chest. He’s angry at her putting him off again, like he’s not a part of this. He knows they’re in trouble, and he knows it’s his fault. She’s trying to pretend he’s not even upset about it.

Sighing, she puts in the movie of her choice and then hands him the plate of food. He picks at it, eating most of the bread in the end.  
***

Steve gets dressed in the bathroom, looking at his tattoo in the mirror. He wants to show it to Christian, but the more he thinks about it, the more he feels like it wasn’t the best idea. Will it seem weird? Like a stalker to mark his body permanently with something to remind him of Christian? How can he explain it? And how long will he survive after his parents find out?

Sighing, Steve buttons up his shirt, the tattoo covering the tattoo again. He comes out of the bathroom and sees his mom has gotten them some muffins from the hotel breakfast.

Sitting down at the small round table, he is already in a bad mood. He’s been in a bad mood since they got here.

“What’re they gonna do?” he asks as he takes the wrapper off. “She was only a waitress. How will they support themselves?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” she says patiently. “She may be able to find another job, or she may be able to get some assistance, if not from family and friends, from the government perhaps.”

“They’ll have to go on welfare?” Steve asks in horror with his mouth full of muffin. He doesn’t know why the idea bothers him so much. Christian was living on the streets. But then his mom came and Steve saw that they had a cute house and stuff. To lose that seems awful because it comes on top of everything else.

“I don’t know,” his mom says slowly. “I don’t know their finances, but it doesn’t seem as if she does have a lot of support and that does make them vulnerable. She may have a hard time even if she can find a new job and support Christian at the same time.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if they moved back to LA with us?” Steve tries again, desperate to have her agree with him. “If she doesn’t have any help and doesn’t have a job? What if she loses her house?”

“Her house may be in danger, but this is their home, Steve,” she says. “She may not want to leave and Christian may not want to leave either. They have difficult history here but they may have their only good history here too.”

She takes a deep breath like he’s annoying her as much as he’s annoying himself, frankly. “And more than that, it is her decision on what is best for herself and her son.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t offer an alternative,” Steve mumbles with his mouth full.  
**************

Christian is still pissy in the morning. After a few days of sleeping a lot now he feels like he can’t sleep. He’s spent the night thinking about leaving again. He doesn’t know how he’d get out the door though.

He’s tired of this house and being afraid of pissing off his momma and Jenny’s weirdly overprotective behavior, he’s just tired of everything. He’s tired of being afraid. The fear he felt living on the streets somehow feels less immediate now and preferable to this..this fear of abandonment, fear of being shamed in public, fear of facing Jeff again.

Frustrated, he gets out of bed, throwing back the covers. When he comes out, he knows they’re surprised that he’s up early all by himself, but he doesn’t say anything to them. After the bathroom, he heads straight past them to the refrigerator, getting himself a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning,” his momma says pointedly but he only mumbles in response.

He takes his bowl to the couch where he turns on the tv, a clear sign that he’s not interested in talking to them. And he keeps spooning the cereal into his mouth as if to make it impossible for him to talk period. Eventually though, his momma does come over to stand behind the couch.

“I’ve got to go out once Steve and his mother arrive. So you need to do what Jenny says, alright?” she says, her voice too gentle, her words too vague.  
Christian scoffs and says, “Whatever.”

He can feel her standing there still behind, but then she accepts his answer and moves back to the table. His jaw works with unspoken words and accusations, but he keeps quiet. He settles deeper into the couch, ignoring them when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

It’s just Steve, he tells himself ferociously as his momma opens the door for their guests. The fear that still freezes his heart every single time, just makes him more angry. He’d rather it just happen, if his momma is going to be pissed or if Jeff is going to win, he just wants it to be over, instead of waiting.

Steve is heading over to the couch and he’s surprised when Christian jumps up to meet him, almost like he’s been waiting for him. It’s a lot different than how Christian had been acting, really different from how Christian has ever acted towards him.

Christian gestures Steve to his room, wanting to get away from all the parents that are constantly telling him what to do. He even totally closes his bedroom door behind them, not caring what any of them think.

Steve looks around the room, unsure if he should sit on the bed or if that’s too intimate. Or maybe Christian wants that intimacy. But as he looks back at Christian who is still standing, he just thinks that Christian looks agitated. Steve is still wondering what he’s supposed to do when Christian starts speaking.

Christian leans back against the closed door. He wants to just yell, but he keeps his voice soft so they won’t hear him through the door.

“Man, I have got to get out of here,” Christian says in a tight voice. “Wanna get out of this house?”

Steve hesitates for a moment, but then is enthusiastic. “Uhh…yeah, yeah, of course,” he responds.

“Uuuurgh,” Christian groans as he pushes off of the door. “I just…” Christian throws down his hands. He’s not entirely sure what he’s trying to say or why he’s saying it to Steve. “Ya think we could take your momma’s car? Just go someplace?”

Christian shrugs his shoulders, almost trying to pull back and now show how much he wants this, not wanting Steve or anyone to see him weak and needy. He doesn’t know where they could possibly go without any money.

“Uhh, yeah, I think we could take the car some place,” Steve says, his brain running on all cylinders. Surely his mom would let them go out alone, right? But they’d have to take her back to the hotel first.

But it is entirely worth it when Christian looks at him with a small smile on his face. It changes Christian entirely, it changes everything. Steve startles as there’s a knock at the door.

“Christian,” his momma’s voice comes through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Christian says with a huff, moving away from the door and then sitting on the bed as his momma opens the door.

“I’m going out for a while. Jenny will make everyone lunch again. So please just listen to your sister,” she says quickly.

But before she can leave the room, Christian is speaking up. “Actually, we were gonna go out. Me and Steve,” he says almost defiantly. He’s scared inside of what she might think, if she thinks that there is something between them.

“Oh,” she says, her movements freezing in confusion as she turns back around. “Well, I suppose…Steve, do you have a cell?”

Standing more upright at hearing his name, Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, and we can absolutely call you and everything.”

“I’m not a child,” Christian snaps, unable to prevent his anger form coming out at her. “And I won’t run away, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He pauses while she stands there semi-speechless, but then he murmurs, “As if you’d be worried anyway…”

With a sigh, she ignores his outburst. “Alright, you can go out for lunch, but be back before dinner. I’ll be back then too. Guess Jenny can go back to her boyfriend’s too.”

“Whatever,” Christian says, throwing himself back on the bed and turning his face away.

Steve’s a little confused by this new antagonistic attitude. It reminds him of when Christian was living on the street, trying to keep Steve away. But why would he want to push his mom away? Especially since he’s seemingly been trying not to upset her until now?

Curious, Steve sits down on the bed nearby as Christian’s mom leaves without saying anything, closing the door only most of the way behind her. But as soon as they hear the sound of the front door closing, Christian is sitting up again, obviously ready to leave.

Steve’s not surprised to see his own mom’s surprised face when they exit Christian’s room. He knows she must be confused about what is going on too.

“Are you leaving?” Christian asks his sister, snottily. “Do you have a key?”

“Yes,” she answers back just as obnoxiously. “Momma left you an extra key. Give me a call when you are heading back to the house and you better be back before…”

She’s interrupted by the phone ringing. Throwing him a look, she rushes to the kitchen to pick up the cordless. “Oh, it’s for you,” she says, handing the phone off.  
Christian is surprised as he takes the phone. Steve is already here so who would it be?

“Chris? It’s David,” he hears. “Hey, I had a little time on my lunch break…”

“We’re going out,” Christian blurts, seeing an opening. Maybe David will know where to go. “Did you…I mean, do you want to come with us?”

The line is silent before David blows out a breath that becomes words, “Ssssure, we can go out to lunch, how ‘bout? I can pick you up.”

“Me and Steve,” Christian corrects him. “Great, I’ll see you.”

Christian gives the phone back to his sister with a little self-satisfied smirk, despite that he’s wondering to himself how his need to escape has turned into an outing with all of these people. He’s starting to feel suffocated by his own plan.

“David is picking us up,” Christian says to Steve ostensibly but it’s a message to his sister without him having to talk to her.

He can feel her glaring at him though. “Fine,” she says. “Then I guess I will go to Phillip’s.”

Steve is confused, but he says to his mom, “I guess you can go back to the hotel. We’ll be back here after lunch.”

It’s clear that she wants to object. Frankly, it seems like everyone is uncomfortable with the idea, everyone but Christian and Steve supposes that Christian’s is the only opinion that really matters. If it makes him feel better then all of them just need to get on board. And it is strange that Christian really hasn’t been outside this house, been out into the city where he grew up, where he used to live.

She manages to agree and they all wait for David with Jennifer putting on more makeup and putting things in her purse. Christian waits by the window, anxious to leave the house. Finally, David’s car pulls into the driveway.

Christian is practically rushing out the door, but when he turns to call out to Steve, he finds his sister behind him instead.

“Here’s mom and I’s numbers written down,” she says handing him a post-it note. “Don’t lose them and call us when you are heading home. Actually, call when you decide where you’re going for lunch.”

Christian takes the paper but scowls at the instructions. “I’ll call when I get home,” he says since he has a key.

Steve walks behind Jennifer as all four of them exit the house together. Christian is in a hurry and hops into the passenger seat of David’s SUV. Steve meets his mom’s eyes before getting in the back. She’s probably pissed at him and wanting to know exactly what he thinks he’s doing but things are happening so fast. Christian is suddenly so different, impulsive and dominant like he was when Steve first met him.

Jennifer stares at them, not getting in her car yet as Christian claps his hands on the dash and tells David to go. As they back out of the driveway, Steve wonders if this is not the most awkward lunch he’ll ever experience. Christian is practically vibrating for reasons unknown and David is an ass.

“So,” David starts and Steve watches his eyes glance over at Christian and they almost seem worried. “Where do you wanna eat?”

Christian throws himself back into his seat though his fingers still drum nervously on the window. “God, I don’t care. I’m just glad to be out of the house.”

Steve thinks David’s smile is tight which is somehow gratifying, to know that David is taking this seriously finally. Though, he does wish that someone was in charge of this situation.

“Well, I gotta be back at work in an hour…” David says then trails off.

Christian shifts in his seat, not wanting to go back. He’s half tempted to just sneak out of the restaurant and run away. But where could he go now? He’s almost eighteen and he still has no better prospects, just a ruined reputation.

“What about that pizza place? Where we used to go?” Christian says. He’s starting to notice that neither of the other two boys wants to go anywhere with him. It only annoys him more.

“Yeah,” David accepts the suggestion though he sounds hesitant still. “They still have the best pizza and they have slices for lunch.”

Christian pointedly turns his face away to look out the window. “I’m not actually hungry.”

Steve sees David look over at Christian but he’s glad that the other boy doesn’t start fighting about it already. Steve isn’t the least bit surprised and he wonders if David has seen the pattern yet. He hasn’t even thought of anything to say to break the silence that’s fallen when David is pulling into a lot behind a small shopping center.

Christian hesitates getting out of the car. He wants to stay, to just keep driving as if he could run away from himself. Being in public isn’t what he wants, but in a way, it feels easier to pull himself together than it was at home.

Steve definitely doesn’t want to go in. The last time he went anywhere with Christian, it ended very badly, it ended up here in Oklahoma. He doesn’t want to share Christian with David so he certainly doesn’t want to share Christian with anyone else. In LA, he wanted to introduce Christian to other people, but mostly that went very very badly. Now he feels like other people are a pack of rabid dogs, circling them, predatory and vicious.

The inside is dingy, filled with cheap plastic tables and chairs. David leads them up to the counter with a register and hands out a few menus to the other two. Steve tries not to stare when Christian puts the menu back on the counter without looking.

“Just lemme have two slices with pepperoni, and two Cokes,” Steve says, taking matters into his own hands but hoping that the public setting will prevent a meltdown.

It actually does. Christian shoots him a glare, but then goes back to looking around the room, more concerned with that than Steve spending money on him apparently.

“Huh?” Steve says, turning back to the waitress as she asks him a question. “That’s it, yeah.”

He’s busy paying when he hears David start to speak, greeting another teenager that’s walking over to them. That’s pretty much exactly what he didn’t want to happen here. Steve can see that even though the other teen is greeting David, it’s Christian that he’s looking at with interest. Steve can’t tell yet what kind of interest, but it puts him on edge.

Christian’s entire body is tight as the other boy approaches. He recognizes him from their class despite that the guy has gained about a foot and a hundred pounds. At least the guy wasn’t a wrestler though.

“Hey, David!” the guy says. “Chris, is that you? God, man, it’s been a while…”

David and the guy clap hands and then bump shoulders in an approximation of a hug, but Christian just stands there awkwardly, hoping that the guy won’t try to touch him. The guy seems a little awkward too, a little excited almost.

“I heard you had been, well, found. Is it true that you were in LA, man?” the guy asks.

“Let’s get a table,” David interjects. He seems uncomfortable, his face pinched as if he really wants the guy to go away too. That scares both Christian and Steve. “Let me order and we can eat together, catch up?” David continues.

“Yeaaah,” the guy says drawing the word out like he’s pleased. “I was just eating with some other guys, we’ll get a bigger table.”

He rushes off before Steve can get the words he wants to say out. He wants to take the pizza and run out of this place. There’s something off about the whole thing, about the guy, about David, about everything.

David places his order quickly, as if he doesn’t want Christian to go over into the dining room by himself, or with just Steve. Christian doesn’t seem to even be paying attention, seemingly having retreated into himself, his jaw pulsing with anger or some other emotion Steve can’t tell. He simply follows when David begins to lead the three of them to a table, a table that several other large and loud guys are moving their stuff too.

Christian sucks in a little breath when two of the guys at the table are in fact wrestlers, though one was a year behind him in school. He sits down and is surprised when one of the guys from high school sits next to him. David is on his other side but Steve has to sit across the table.

Christian turns his cup slowly on the table in front of him to distract himself from staring at the other guys like a freak. What does he possibly have to say to these people?

“Oh, hey, sorry,” the guy next to Steve suddenly turns to him. “I’m Dustin, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Steve,” Steve says a tiny smile. “I’m from LA.”

The look of excitement in the other guy’s eyes makes him regret his words, but how else to describe himself. Everyone here knows each other. But now he knows that he’s just gotten all of these guys on the topic of LA again. He looks around and he would swear that half of the other tables around them are also looking over at them, at Christian, whispering about them.

“Man, that’s awesome. I can’t believe…” the guy starts in but David interrupts them.

“Yeah, but y’all are staying here, going to OU, right?” David asks the guys.

The guy next to Steve suddenly turns his attention back forward. “Yeah, of course,” he says with a shrug. “Gonna be on the wrestling team there,” he says proudly.

“It’s too bad the team this year is gonna suck,” a guy speaks up from the other side of David. “It may be hard for us to get on the college team after this mess.”

David stiffens noticeably then and Steve turns his attention toward the other teen. “Y’all have a good team this year. Riley is good…”

Steve feels like he has whiplash as he turns back to the guy next to him speaking. “Riley hasn’t even been at school.”

“Why not?” Christian speaks up. He doesn’t want to get involved in these accusation, doesn’t have the will to try to defend himself, but he’s heard Riley’s name before, from David.

“I don’t know,” Dustin says.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not graduating,” the kid beside David breaks into whine. “You know that Coach Morgan normally gets guys tryouts with the college,” he’s speaking directly to David, but he throws an angry glance at Christian.

Christian stares down at his lap, breathing hard and trying to control it even as the others around him are getting increasingly upset. He knows they blame him, he knows that they want him to take it back, just take back all those accusations, but he can’t now, it’s gone too far to take it back now.

Steve, however, can’t keep his mouth from running off without his brain. The idea of these…kids accusing Christian… “Are you kidding me?” Steve bursts out, his words forceful if not quite yelling in deference to the setting. “Do you know what he fucking did?”

Christian stands up suddenly, cutting off anything else that Steve might say. Steve can feel his face heat in embarrassment, in shame for the secrets he was about to spill just because he was angry.

David tries to play peacemaker one more time. “Look guys, it’s not really up to us. Let’s just let the police handle it.”

But even as David stands up, trying to escape this confrontation, there’s a different voice, from across the room.

“Coach Morgan didn’t do anything. It was all you, ya faggot,” some younger guy across the restaurant suddenly spits at them.

Christian suddenly starts over there, but Dustin grabs him preventing his approach. But it doesn’t stop Christian’s anger. Christian just turns around and socks Dustin in the face. The other guys at the table are on Christian in a second, whacking Christian on the head as he ducks and gets in another punch at Dustin’s side as the other teen curls in on himself.

Steve is stuck on the other side of the table, but David finally manages to pull Christian away from the mess. Grabbing Christian up in a bear hug around the middle, David swings them around, taking a couple hits on his back from the other boys before the screaming from the waitresses quiets them all down.

“C’mon, we gotta go,” David whispers, pulling Christian along instead of releasing the other teen.

Steve doesn’t notice til they’re outside that David is pulling Christian not because Christian is struggling but because Christian isn’t moving under his own steam anymore. There’s nothing on Christian’s face.

“Lemme get in the back with him,” Steve says breathlessly when they reach the car. He opens the back door and climbs in, ready to pull Christian up and across the seats, but Christian steps up when prompted. Christian just doesn’t seem to care.

Steve, on the other hand, is beside himself. He helps Christian in the car but then he can’t seem to take his hands off. But he is also afraid to touch, afraid to hurt Christian more. He pats Christian’s arm stupidly but then flails as the car jerks forward suddenly.

“Dammit, David!” Steve shouts. “Try not to kill us.”

“I’m not,” David shoots back, softer but no less vicious. “I’m just trying to get out of here.”

“Those are your friends!” Steve accuses. “What in the hell happened?”

“It’s not my fault!” David cries, voice suddenly loud in the enclosed car. “I didn’t think they’d really bring it up! Or say anything like online.”

“What’s online?” Steve snaps.

David is quiet and Steve is about to start screaming at him, but then David whips his head around and looks over at Christian. “Ask me later,” he says in a much quieter voice.

It takes the urge to fight right out of Steve as he suddenly realizes how they’ve been screaming about Christian right in front of Christian. But when he looks over, Christian is simply staring out the window like he hasn’t heard a thing.

It feels like the air in his lungs suddenly freezes as Steve doesn’t know what to say, what to do. “Christian?” he tries but he’s not surprised when there’s no response.

Changing gears, Steve reaches in his pants for his phone. “I’ll call my mom, she’ll…”

He doesn’t know what she’ll do but he’s counting on her to know something to do to help. He’s dialing when he realizes that he doesn’t know what to say to her. He’s embarrassed to admit that he’s fucked up again, embarrassed to once again be calling her in a panic, worrying her.

“Steve,” his mom’s voice over the phone pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t have a choice.

“Mom?” He starts. “Lunch didn’t go well. We’re headed back to the house, meet us there?”

“Where’s Christian?” she asks.

Steve shakes his head, knowing he’s not telling the facts well. “He’s here, with us. He’s not talking.”

“He still have his key?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll meet you at the house before we call his family.”

“Great,” Steve says, sighing gratefully that his mom understood that he’s calling her instead of Christian’s sister, or worse his mom.

He looks up at Christian, but he’s still looking out the window, his head now resting against the glass. Glancing at the front, he sees David’s concerned dark gaze in the rearview mirror. As much as he hates to admit it, David does care for Christian and he knows he should be grateful for everyone who does, everyone who believes Christian. Because it’s clear most people in this godawful place don’t.

Fortunately, they get there quickly, before Steve’s mom even. David comes around to help Christian out while Steve just holds Christian’s arm so the teen doesn’t fall out of the car when the door opens.

“Do you have the key?” Steve asks.

For some reason, Steve actually expects Christian to help them at least get in the house. But Christian doesn’t look up from his blank gaze at the ground. Steve just barely manages to prevent himself from shaking Christian. The longer the silence continues, the more scared and on edge Steve feels.

“Christian,” David tries, stepping up and trying to catch Christian’s gaze. “Christian? Please, just give us the key to the house, ok?”

Still nothing. Steve’s eyes start to water near the edges and he blinks it away angrily. He feels so out of depth. Digging through Christian’s pockets is the last thing that Christian probably needs, but Christian just won’t help them. He figures that Christian should already hate him for pushing for sex so he steps forward to slowly slip two fingers into Christian’s left front pocket. He finds a slip of paper, the one with Jennifer’s number on it. He keeps the paper and then looks in the other pocket. Still Christian doesn’t react, though Steve can feel the heat of Christian’s body through the cloth.

He pulls out the key this time even as he hears his mom pull into the driveway. For a moment, he hesitates, torn between waiting for her and going on inside the house. In the end, he waits as she walks over, a comforting hand brushing through Christian’s shaggy hair. It seems so easy for her, so casual as her arm then encircles Christian’s shoulder, leading him towards the door.

“Steve, let us inside,” she says, her voice is calm even as Steve starts and then hurries past them all to the door.

David stops beside him next to the door, both too confused about what to do with themselves, both staring as Steve’s mom leads Christian over to the couch. She prompts him to lie down with a pillow under his head. She rubs Christian’s head for a minute, before finally stepping away.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” she says, but she’s motioning the two other teens into the kitchen as well.

“It’s these fucking people,” Steve starts, his voice a hiss as he tries to keep the volume down. “This town, it’s just awful. They were horrible to him.”

“Steve,” his mom says sharply in chastisement. “Not now. Just tell me what happened.”

David speaks up then. “I know that people have been saying things on twitter and stuff, but I didn’t think anyone would say it to his face. People just don’t know what to believe, I guess.”

“Wait, what were they saying on twitter?” Steve spits.

“People are upset,” David tries to minimize it. “They don’t know Christian and the Coach has helped a lot of people.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Steve shouts suddenly. He tries to get his voice under control when he speaks again. “Let me see.”

“Let me see! Your phone,” Steve says when David just stares at him blankly. “I want to know what they’re saying.”

David finally takes out his smart phone and starts scrolling. “Fine, let me just find it…” he murmurs.

When he finally hands over the phone, Steve is horrified by what he sees. Some guy Trent whatever is saying that Christian seduced the Coach, another girl is saying that Christian just wants attention. Some people are talking about Christian’s sex life, about how loose his…

Steve just wants to throw a tantrum. He wishes they could go back to the diner so he could punch them all in the face. It actually feels like his vision is darkening around the phone, like it’s the only thing in existence right then.

Then his mom reaches for the phone. It takes him a second to force himself to let go and let her see. He really doesn’t need to read any more. She only looks at it for a second, like it doesn’t even matter and Steve is about to start screaming.

“And so people started saying this stuff and Christian went silent?” she asks.

“No, Christian got pissed and who can blame him,” Steve seethes.

“Was anyone seriously hurt?” she asks.

“No,” David jumps in. “Those guys, they won’t call the cops or anything.”

Steve wonders how David can be so sure, but at this point his brain is too full to seriously consider the cops trying to pick Christian up for defending himself against those assholes.

“I guess I didn’t think they’d actually say anything about it to his face either,” Steve’s mom says slowly.

Steve is stunned when suddenly his mom turns away only to realize that she is actually getting a glass of water. He’s still standing there staring as she walks back over to the couch.

“Christian,” she says, her hand sliding through his hair as she takes a seat on the edge of the cushion near Christian’s stomach. “We need to call your sister, ok?”  
That gets Christian’s attention. Steve sees a small motion on the couch and it’s enough for him to go over to see Christian finally respond.

Christian curls a little deeper into himself. “No,” he whispers, feeling like he can’t trust himself to speak yet. “I don’t want my mom to know.”

He flinches back when she pets his hair again. “I’m sorry, but she needs to know. I promise that she won’t be upset with you.”

Christian’s eyes fill with tears that he doesn’t let fall. What is he supposed to say? Now he knows for certain that everyone hates him, blames him for everything from what he did with the Coach to the fate of the team this year. He can’t even leave the house now, and soon his mom will realize that he’s just a burden. He just wants to get out of here.

“Whatever,” he says, sitting up to get away from her touch. This is his house he thinks, and she’s the guest this time. He’s not obligated to be polite to her anymore.

He gets off the couch suddenly and sprints into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Steve shudders at the sound and glares at his mom. Hesitating only a minute, he suddenly pitches forward, rushing over to Christian’s bedroom.

“Steve,” his mom says, before she reaches out as if to stop him. “Leave him be until his mom gets here.”

Steve wants to argue, who knows what Christian is doing in there, but he wouldn’t want to be watched every single moment, either. He’s still arguing with himself when suddenly David cries out.

“Oh shit, I was supposed to be back at work,” David says breaking the moment. “I have to…I have to go.”

Steve is already scowling. David got them into this fucking mess and now he’s just going to run away when Christian can’t even say anything!

“I am so sorry. Tell Chris that I’ll come by tomorrow at lunch, and check on him,” he says moving already towards the door, only a few steps away from the kitchen really.

“Wait!” Steve cries running over and practically tripping on the coffee table. “Wait, what about…the twitter stuff? What’re their names?”

Steve fumbles out his own phone. He needs to be able to show them how terrible it is. “Or just give me your name? I can see your friends, you think?”

David seems stunned at the idea, but eventually he starts moving, away from the door. “Let me just get a piece of paper.”

They go find one in the kitchen and David scribbles down some names that are barely legible. He seems to hesitate before handing it over, and Steve is afraid that the other teen is going to try another stupid excuse about their wrestling wins or something, but fortunately David stays quiet.

Steve grabs the paper away a little harder than he meant to. But still, David should be defending Christian not those horrible people. David glares back at him momentarily before rushing out again.

Steve is so angry he has to stay there and just grip the table for a long moment before he finally manages to not feel like just ripping someone apart. It’s clear that no one in this town gives a shit about Christian or the probably many more boys whose lives were ruined.

He comes out of it when he hears his mom’s voice, and he looks up to see her on the phone. “Yes, Jennifer? This is Sandy, Steve’s mom,” she says, her voice as calm as if nothing at all had happened, as calm as when he’s talking to one of Steve’s friends’ parents on the phone at home in LA. “They’ve made it back to the house. Christian’s a little upset, but I don’t think that your mom needs to come home early.”

She pauses listening and Steve desperately wants to know what’s being said. “Yes, I’ll be here. Great, see you soon.”

Wanting to just bury his head in the sand, Steve plops down on the couch. He doesn’t want to see Jennifer’s reaction to this story, because he’s sure that she’ll blame him. Then his stomach growls unexpectedly. Great, he thinks as he remembers that they never even got to eat lunch. Just great. It’s not like he wants to leave right before Jennifer gets here.

Taking out his phone, Steve texts Jensen who is in the middle of being properly horrified by the day’s events when the door opens and slams closed quickly.

“I’m sorry. I should have been back already. I knew y’all wouldn’t be gone that long, not with David having to get back,” she says hurriedly.

Steve looks up at her curiously. He’s never sure how he feels about her or how she feels about anything. The siblings don’t seem close, but she does seem to care, though she doesn’t show it in the way that Steve understands.

“Where’s Chris?” she asks, looking from one Carlson face to the other.

“He’s in his room,” his mom says, standing up. “Come with me into the kitchen. He’ll be fine.”

Steve can see Jennifer look back at Christian’s door and knows that she wants to go in. He wants to go in too, but he knows that Christian deserves a little privacy. When Steve is pissed, he likes to talk things out, but he’s never been attacked by people like Christian was today, not even when he came out.

He continues sitting there and can hear his mom asking Jenny about where the coffee is. He knows it’s a ruse to keep the young woman busy and he almost wishes that his mom would do the same with him. He wants to take out his phone and text Jensen again but he thinks that Jennifer would probably see it as rude, like he’s not worried enough about Christian. He figured that he would need to be on his best behavior with Christian’s mom, but he’s surprised by how much it’s actually Christian’s sister that he feels the need to impress.

He startles as his mom sits beside him on the couch, an extra mug of coffee in her hands that she puts in front of him on the coffee table. Grateful for something to do with his hands, he picks it up despite how hot it is. His mother is blowing on hers so the conversation has stopped for now, but they all stop when they hear the door open.

“Jenny?” Pam calls out. “Chris, are you home…?”

Steve’s mom stands up and Steve figures that whatever is on her face must tell Pam all she needs to know about their outing.

“Where’s Chris?” she asks.

Steve looks up to see Christian’s mom looking at Jennifer for answers, but for once Jennifer just looks guilty. She looks guilty and she wasn’t even there.

“I don’t know exactly…” Jennifer starts.

“There was a fight,” Steve’s mom interrupts. “Steve,” she says then with feeling.

Steve doesn’t get up from the couch as he tries to figure out what to say. “There were these guys and some other people who were saying stuff, just awful stuff about Christian. It was their fault, but it just got out of hand…”

He runs out of words when she puts a hand to her forehead. The gesture is so like Christian. She takes a step forward and Steve stands up, wanting to say something to make it better. He doesn’t have anything to say though and he wonders why he wants to make her feel better at all.

She knocks on his door and calls out her name. There’s no answer which isn’t surprisingly, but when she tries the doorknob, it turns easily, letting her inside.  
Christian is already standing. He heard her come in, of course, and he assumes that she’s already been told about what he did.

He crosses his arms as he glares at her. “What?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing?” she asks calmly. “Steve says there was a problem…”

“Yeah, yeah there is a big problem,” he shouts. “I’m a big problem. I can’t fucking go out! Everybody knows. Everybody hates me. And yeah, I punched that little shit and I woulda done a lot more if they hadn’t pulled me off!”

“Christian,” she says sharply. “Don’t speak like that. And you can’t go around hitting people.”

“Whatever! I can’t stay here! I can’t even leave the house!” Christian screams. “Get out, just leave me alone!”

Reluctantly his mom backs away, probably to let him cool off though Christian thinks there’s fat chance of that. He throws himself back on the bed. All he wanted to do was just get the fuck out of this house for a couple minutes and then it all went to shit. He knew he didn’t want to go out, but he felt bad after yesterday and making his momma late for work.

There’s a sharp knock at the door and Christian is just lifting his head when Steve walks in. “What d’ya want?” he snarls.

Steve doesn’t really know what to say. “It’s not your fault, ok? Those guys…”

“Shut up,” Christian snaps, getting up off the bed. “Ok, shut up. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it, I don’t want to hear anything about them or me or anything. Because they’re not wrong, ok, and I…”

Steve is suddenly right in front of him, his face worried and Christian is having a hard time getting enough air for all the words that want to spew out of his mouth. Almost instinctively, he reaches out and grabs Steve. His hands are unbuttoning Steve’s shirt even before he’s crushing their lips together.

Steve tries to move away but Christian isn’t letting him go and Steve won’t, can’t hurt Christian by pushing too hard. Christian’s hands continue trying to pull off his shirt when they suddenly stop.

“Christian…?” Steve asks, breathless and worried. His arms are stuck with the shirt halfway down.

Christian doesn’t respond. He’s staring, staring at a new mark that he doesn’t remember on Steve’s body. “Is that a new tattoo?” he asks.

Logically, he knows it is, it must be. It’s an armband with feathers underneath Steve’s star tattoo. It’s a tribal tattoo.

“Is it…” Christian can’t finish. He doesn’t want to presume that it’s for him, but… “Is it Cherokee?”

Steve feels frozen. He doesn’t know what to say, which way to spin it that won’t scare Christian off. For the first time, he feels like it might have been a bad idea.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s Cherokee,” he starts. “D’you like it?”

Christian presses his lips together. “It…am I supposed to?”

Steve’s face breaks into a small smile. “Well, I hope you don’t hate the sight of it.”

Christian kinda flushes a little and ducks his head, embarrassed at the idea of liking to look at Steve, not just fuck him.

Steve doesn’t know whether his words were good or bad based on the other teen’s reaction, but he switches tactics. “I told you. I liked what you said about the Cherokee religion. And I wanted to remember you.”

“Remember me?” Christian mumbles, only half-raising his head. “You’d be better to just forget me. I don’t need your charity anymore. There’s nothing you can do here.”

“It’s not charity, Christian,” Steve says, willing the other teen to just believe him. “I’m your friend and I’m not going to abandon you, no matter how much you push me away,” Steve tries, his lips quirking in a small smile. “And this tattoo proves it. And I really did like the idea of everybody having their place, of greeting the day…”

Steve trails off, not really knowing what he wants to say because it all sounded so much better when it was Christian explaining it. Out of his own mouth, it just makes him seem like a fake. Awkward, Steve tries to get his shirt back up his arms. He’s worried that covering himself back up would make Christian feel embarrassed but the brunette seems too far inside his own head to really respond.

“Your mom just wants to help too, ya know?” Steve says and then he’s horrified as Christian’s face just kinda crumples.

“I know, but what…what can she do?” Christian says, turning away from Steve now instead of pushing closer. “What is the point?”

Christian moves away then to sit down on the edge of his bed. His hands are limp on his thighs and he just stares down at them. What is he going to do?

Steve doesn’t know what to say, how far to push. He does want Christian mad at him again. “Hey, do you want something to drink? I know we never got lunch,” Steve says.

Christian just shrugs so Steve takes the opportunity to go do something useful. He slips out of the room quietly to head to the kitchen. Everyone else is already there, huddled around the table and he notices that Jennifer is now holding her own phone. Cautiously, he approaches the cabinets.

Mrs. Kane seems tired, but she looks up at him with something like gratefulness in her eyes. “How’s Christian?” she asks.

“He’s upset,” Steve says quietly. “I’m just getting some drinks.”

She nods but looks upset. Jennifer moves then, like she’s trying to get closer, to get her mom’s attention back. She’s still holding the phone. Steve slows his movements so he can figure out what’s going on.

“This is harassment,” Jennifer hisses with a sharp glance over her shoulder at Christian’s door. “If Chris ever saw this…it would crush him.”

Steve looks at the phone and realizes that she must have looked up that shit on twitter. He can’t help speaking. “He already thinks the worst in his head,” he says seriously. Whatever these dumbasses are saying on twitter seems to be nothing compared to what Christian thinks about himself.

Mrs. Kane won’t lift her head, but she seems even more upset. Steve’s mom tries to whisper to her but Mrs. Kane simply shakes her head. It seems that Christian’s mom is still holding all of her emotions inside, refusing to accept other comfort. It burns in Steve’s throat, a lump like tears. Steve’s mom moves back again, but she doesn’t give up.

“It will take time,” his mom says. “But it will get better. Things won’t ever be the same…”

“How can things get better with people like this,” Jennifer’s voice is getting louder and higher, practically a screech now. Steve kinda likes her in that moment. “How can they say these things? Why isn’t anyone doing something about it?”

“What can they do?” Mrs. Kane replies and she just sounds depressed all of a sudden, like she’s not just talking about the people in this town, but just absolutely everything, their whole life, like she doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Jenny suddenly collapses in one of the dining chairs as Steve turns away to look in the fridge. There’s no soda, but there’s a jug of tea that Steve pulls out.  
“Have you talked to any of the advocates?” his mom tries again. “Have they said how you can get started?”

“They say that he needs a routine,” Mrs. Kane says and Steve turns his head to see her. “But how can I do that? He doesn’t want to do anything, and I need to find a job first myself so that I know when I can pick him up.”

“I can do some,” Jennifer speaks up.

“I know, sweetheart,” Mrs. Kane says. “But you will have to go back to school. You can help, but you need to have your own life.”

Jennifer seems to bristle, sitting up straight in her chair. “You think people won’t hire me if I’m too involved with him?” she accuses. “These people don’t matter, I wouldn’t want to work with them…”

She’s working herself into a rant and Steve suddenly feels like he’s not really supposed to be there. He grabs the two glasses and makes his way back into Christian’s room. He’s grateful that Christian will let him in there and he wonders if Christian’s mom is grateful too.

Christian takes the glass and actually does drink it. He’s got a book in his hand and Steve takes his glass with him as he peruses Christian’s shelves. He picks up a couple books before finding one that he’s read before. He liked it and it won’t take much brainpower since he knows what happens.

“You wanna just read?” Steve asks.

He doesn’t get a response, but at least he’s not getting kicked out.

They spend a while in silence. Steve wishes that Christian at least had a stereo or something, but he makes himself comfortable against the headboard. Christian eventually turns on his side away from Steve. He might even be asleep, Steve can’t really tell.

He’s tempted to take his phone out and start playing a game, but he knows, knows how horrible of an idea that is. He’d love to let Christian play on his phone too, but after what happened back in LA with the Xbox…Steve is pretty sure that Christian will only focus on the fact that he either isn’t trusted with a phone or that his mom can’t afford one.

Turning on his own side, Steve lets his knuckles rest lightly, very lightly against Christian’s back. At home, he’s always on his phone or on the laptop talking to his friends and watching youtube that he talks to his friends about, but with Christian, he’s very willing to just be with Christian. Just that Christian is willing to let him touch is a big thing, it seems even if it’s far from what Steve wants.

He jumps when there’s a knock at the door, face flushing even though he never wanted to be ashamed of his feelings before. But he knows that he doesn’t want to be seen as taking advantage of Christian. He’s not sure when he’ll stop feeling like that, can’t imagine a time when he won’t still see Christian broken in that alley behind his eyelids.

Christian stays lying down on the bed as the bedroom door is over. He’s over caring if his mom sees that he’s on the bed with Steve. He’s not sure what does and doesn’t look gay anymore. Maybe if she just knew, knew what else he had done after Jeff, then this would just be over already. He wants to go back to just existing. Except for Steve…Steve won’t seem to let him go, even in LA, Steve kept dragging him out of the comforting non-existence that he was in. Half the time, Christian can’t decide if he hates or loves the other teen, but he’s definitely confused.

“Come to dinner,” his mom says, trying too hard to act normal.

Christian doesn’t even lift his head, just continues to stare obstinately at the book. “Not hungry,” he grits out.

There’s a pause then that makes Christian want to just give in, but then he can feel the bed move, Steve getting up. Of course, he thinks. Steve must be hungry, just because Christian is facing off against his mom doesn’t mean that Steve should have to sit here with him.

He can hear their voices but can’t make out any words, but then they’re walking away. He thinks that he’s alone now, with the door still open, but he feels entirely alone. He wants to look, but what’s the point. Even if his momma is still in the doorway staring at him, he’s still alone. She doesn’t know, can’t possibly know what he feels. It’s not about what those guys said to him today or how she treats him, it’s how he feels about Jeff that she can’t understand.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice interrupts his wallowing just before he hears the sound of the door closing. “I brought you a plate.”

Christian is surprised enough that he sits up to look at Steve. He looks from the plate to Steve’s face to the closed door in confusion. He feels kinda stupidly relieved that Steve came back to him. It’s stupid because Steve would’ve only been out in the kitchen anyway, and it’s strange to feel almost comfortable being in this small room with the other boy. But all he can think right then is how grateful he is that Steve didn’t leave him.

Trying not to be an ass for a minute, Christian takes the plate, holding it still as the bed shifts under Steve’s weight. “Thanks,” he chokes out before taking a bite.

It’s quiet and Christian keeps sneaking glances at Steve, wondering if the other teen feels uncomfortable, looking for any sign that Steve doesn’t want to be trapped in this room with him. But Steve just eats a big bite of chicken and then he’s reaching over to grab the book that Christian was reading. And still he doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask Christian about the book, just kinda reads the back for a minute and eats a little more like he’s comfortable just sitting here in silence.

Christian finally ducks his head, thinking back on that day. He tries to think how Steve might’ve saw it, how David might have. Steve heard all the things those guys said, saw how violent that Christian can be…but Steve knew he was violent in LA. Hell, Christian was much more violent in LA, getting in turf fights and then that thing with Mary’s husband. And Steve knows he’s a slut too, personally knows how quick Christian is to take off his clothes and bend over.

Taking another bite, Christian speaks with his mouth full. “Does your mom know?” he asks, gesturing with his head as he swallows. “I know she knows you’re, you know, gay, but does she know about…me?” Christian asks looking at Steve’s now covered tattooed arm.

Steve chokes a little on his food and Christian’s face starts to frown defensively. Steve’s hands wave about but Christian isn’t sure about the message.

“Yeah, yeah, she does,” Steve says quickly, knowing what the withdrawn look on Christian’s face means. “She knows that I like you more than a friend, that I want to-to have a relationship with you.”

Christian snorts. “That you want to have sex with me? Your mom knows that?”

Steve knows he’s blushing because this is not the way he wanted this to go at all. “Not just sex, Christian. I want a relationship, like boyfriends,” he says stupidly.

“What does that even mean?” Christian mumbles, scowling more pronounced.

Steve shrugs, not entirely sure how to describe it. “You don’t know anyone in a relationship. David never dated anyone, or your sister?”

Christian shakes his head once. “Yeah, they did, but they were all, you know, straight.”

Steve is not missing how hard it is for Christian to say the words gay and straight, but he’s not sure if he should mention it. “It’s not different, just because it’s two guys. It’s not wrong,” Steve tries to stress.

Christian shakes his head and looks down at this plate. It is wrong, what he did with Jeff, when Jeff was the Coach, with Michael there too. He doesn’t want to say about Jeff and all those other guys in the park though, because-because he doesn’t want to hurt Steve. He doesn’t want to say that Steve is wrong. And he thinks about Jensen and Jared and how they seemed as in love as any other couple that he has ever seen. It’s just him. He’s wrong.

So he says that. “No, it’s not wrong for you to be gay. And I know Jensen and Jared, they seem…nice,” Christian says stupidly.

Steve latches onto that. “Yeah, they are. They really care about each other, always being there for one another. If one has a problem, they call the other for help.”

Steve wonders if that was too far, describing his friend’s relationship and comparing it to how Christian called him for help recently. But Christian doesn’t seem to notice. Steve lets the silence hang for what seems like a long time until he has to speak again.

“Is it your mom? You think she’d be mad if you were gay?” Steve asks.

Christian sucks in a horrified breath. He can’t even really think of himself as gay but Steve says it so easily. Is he really gay or is he just fucked up from being with Jeff? But either way, it’s not something he wants his momma to know. He doesn’t know what she’d say.

“I don’t-I don’t know what she’d say,” he admits quietly. “I haven’t told her about…well, about you or anything.”

Steve nods, understanding. Christian has never really talked about what happened with Jeff with him and he wonders if Christian ever will. Maybe since Christian has to tell the cops and the therapists, maybe Steve will never know. It hurts to realize that, to think that he’ll be left with only the worst of what he can imagine. Course then he realizes that there might be a trial…

“I won’t…tell her or anything,” Steve says. “Not until you’re ready.”

Christian looks up, searching Steve’s face. He wonders what Steve is thinking about, just the fact that Christian is gay or the fact that they slept together. If Steve wants a relationship, why won’t he have sex? Christian doesn’t ask because he doesn’t really want to know the answer. He can only imagine how damaged he is, how used he is and Steve probably doesn’t like that. He’s too embarrassed to talk about sex, after everything. It’s something he does but he doesn’t want to think about it.

Steve eventually has to get up to go to the bathroom and he takes the plates with him. Their two moms are now sitting closer at the kitchen table, talking as if they’re friends now. But they stop talking as he gets closer.

“Steve, are you ready to go?” his mom asks, suddenly. “Is Christian ok?”

“Yeah, he’s ok,” Steve starts to say but then there’s noise behind him and they all look to see Christian had followed him out of the bedroom.

“I’m fine,” Christian grumbles and then he’s headed next door to the bathroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

Steve figures that it’s as good as it can be.  
********************************

Steve has a spring in his step as they head toward Christian’s house the next morning. He really feels that they made good progress yesterday, not towards anything romantic, no, but trust. They made good progress towards Christian trusting Steve. He’s brought his guitar with him this time, feeling like it might be welcome at this point.

Still as he enters the house, he can tell just from the energy inside the front door that things aren’t going well for the Kane family. For one thing, Jennifer is opening the door and she looks frustrated. It’s not until he’s inside that Christian starts to yell.

“I won’t eat if I don’t frickin’ want to!” Christian yells even as he’s tearing across the small house and back into his bedroom.

Steve wonders how long that Christian has even been up this morning to be this upset already. He doesn’t immediately follow Christian, but doesn’t really know what else to do or how to be polite in this situation. His mom crosses to the kitchen immediately, though, and he watches as his mom puts one hand on Mrs. Kane’s shoulder who hangs her head.

“I just don’t know what to do for him,” Mrs. Kane murmurs quietly. “I just didn’t realize it’d be so bad. Now, now I can’t even imagine how it can get better.”

The moms seem occupied and Steve doesn’t even see Jennifer so he crosses to Christian’s room without even saying so much as good morning.  
He knocks, but doesn’t wait for an answer, simply slipping inside Christian’s door. He sees the other teen is too worked up to care anyway, pacing the small space.

“I hate it here,” Christian proclaims, but doesn’t quite yell.

Steve nods, figuring that Christian doesn’t really want an answer. He’s rewarded with more complaints a second later.

“How can she think that I can just sit there and eat?” Christian asks rhetorically before he throws himself down on the bed. “I hate it here, and everybody hates me.”  
Christian swallows. It’s not really even about anyone else, those idiots yesterday. Last night he had dreamt of Jeff, dreamt of sex and now everything in this house reminds him of the man. He’s vibrating not with anger but anxiety and it makes him want to bang his head against the wall a few times. He wants to punch something just to quell this fucking helplessness he feels.

Steve looks down at the guitar in his hand that Christian hasn’t even noticed. He’s not sure that it’s such a good idea anymore and he sets it to lean carefully against the wall near the door. Stiffly, he goes to lie down on the bed on his side, toward Christian.

“What was it like here before?” Steve asks.

“Before what?” Christian asks with a huff before he turns on his own side away from Steve. But just because he’s turned away doesn’t mean he actually wants to shut Steve out. “Before I ran away?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, getting more comfortable since Christian is still speaking to him.

Christian shrugs a little at first, not sure what he wants to say. He feels like the idea of talking about the good times, talking about life before running away without mentioning Jeff sticks in his throat today and he just can’t pretend.

“You know why I ran away,” Christian says, not wanting to talk about that in specifics.

“Yeah, but what was it like at home, at school. You had David, did you have other friends?” Steve tries.

Christian snorts in derision. “Friends? They were just guys who wanted to get close to Jeff-to Coach,” Christian corrects himself. They didn’t know how lucky he was to spend that much time with the man.

Steve touches the back of his knuckles to Christian’s back. He thinks that some people did like Christian back then, maybe even still, but Christian couldn’t see it past his own pain. For a second, Steve almost feels bad for Christian’s mom.

“Nobody knew,” Christian says softly. Nobody knew him is what he’s thinking. He was utterly alone even when he was surrounded because nobody knew.  
Now that everybody does know, he can’t decide which is worse. Everybody in this town hates him. And even those who try to understand, they can’t. They can’t possibly understand, even if he told them. They want to know why and he can’t tell them, he doesn’t know himself. He only knows what happened and they wouldn’t understand that either. They don’t want to hear it.

“That must’ve made you feel alone,” Steve says, pressing his hand harder, wanting to impress on Christian that he’s not alone. But he knows that he can’t possibly understand and that only makes him press his hand harder.

“I am alone,” Christian says, his voice getting agitated again and sitting up. “You can’t understand. She can’t…”

A knock on the door interrupts Christian’s diatribe. His mother’s voice comes through the door.

“Christian,” she calls.

Christian sighs and drops his head into his hands, but he calls out for her to enter.

“Christian, sweetie,” she says, poking her head through the door. “I have to go, alright? I’ll be gone a few hours, just going to fill out a few applications. Jenny is back and she’ll stay with you, and Steve and his mother, alright?”

“Whatever,” Christian sighs. “Just go, I’m fine.”

The words make her stiffen momentarily, but soon she’s offering a small smile and leaving the room again.

She leaves the door open and as soon as they hear the front door shut, Steve’s mom is there looking at the two of them.

“So what should we do today?” she asks in fake cheer. “Any sights we should go see?”

“Sights in Norman,” Christian says with a harrumph. “No, I don’t-uh, don’t feel like going out.”

She nods, unsurprised, but offers another suggestion. “Well, what about we can do something here? I could run to the grocery store and we can make cookies for your mom when she gets back?”

“Yeah, we can make dinner for everybody,” Steve agrees, sitting up to knock his elbow against Christian’s side.

Christian just shrugs, his thoughts still swirling at the idea of going out again. His stomach roils at the burn of shame at being seen, like he’s disfigured and the shame of it is on his face.

Steve sees his mom’s gaze flicker between himself and Christian before she seems to make a decision. “Well, I’ll go run to the store then. Jennifer is here while I’m gone. You two behave,” she says with a smile, but it’s dim in the face of Christian’s persistent negativity.

As soon as she steps back, again leaving the door open, Christian is flopping back down on the bed. “Whatever, this sucks,” Christian mumbles.

Steve just sits there for a while, the moment between them when he could ask about the past seems gone. The guitar is all he has left to cheer Christian up.

Christian looks up when the bed moves, curiosity drawing his attention to Steve who is grabbing a guitar left by the door. He sits up when he sees it, surprised.

“You brought your guitar?” Christian asks.

“Yeah, you know,” Steve tries to deflect for a moment, but then he sobers, feeling like he has done nothing but deflect. “When you called the other night, aft-after the Coach guy had been here. It seemed to help, like it’s therapeutic, maybe.”

Steve worries when Christian’s eyebrows meet in a frown. “It’s not-I don’t need therapy.”

Frowning himself, Steve can’t figure out what to say, even though he didn’t mean anything about therapy, but he knows that Christian in fact does need therapy. So instead of answering at all, he lifts up the guitar and vaguely strums it.

Christian stares at Steve who’s smiling at him as fingers strum the strings and for some reason he’s transfixed. Somehow, Steve just makes things easy, easy to forget, easy to remember the good parts.

Ducking his face away, Christian feels his face heat. He wasn’t even thinking about sex or Steve’s looks or anything, but he still feels the shame of it, of his feelings on his face. He looks toward the bedroom door, anxious also at the idea of his sister out there listening to him. He feels too exposed. Music is too important to him, but Steve just barreled right on through his defenses.

Steve notices the nervous glance and steps toward the door to close it at the very least though he has no illusions about the quality of these walls, but then Jennifer’s face is there.

“Hey, what’re y’all up to?” she asks and Steve thinks her voice sounds a little soft, a little gentle.

“Nothing,” Christian snarks back, his defensiveness simply instinctive.

“Do y’all need anything? Lunch’ll be…”

“Whatever,” Christian interrupts her, standing up sudden and going to the door. “We’re fine,” he tells her sharply just as he’s closing the door in her face.

Christian huffs as he steps away from the door, wanting privacy even though he’s not sure why. He wants her to know what he feels but he doesn’t want to tell her. It occurs to him that she may be suspicious of him alone in his room with another boy. Maybe she already knows that he’s a whore, maybe he doesn’t have to tell her everything after all.

Steve winces at the loud sound of the door and the emotions on Christian’s face. Any little thing can seemingly set the other teen off and Steve doesn’t know how to help. It takes less time to rile Christian up than it does to calm him down.

Now feeling stupid, Steve racks his brain on what to do. Slowly his fingers find a familiar rhythm.

Dadadadumdumdum dumdum…he starts, smiling when Christian looks up at him.

Dumdum dumdumdumdum dumdum, he plays and laughs when Christian starts laughing, throwing his head back a little like he’s caught off guard with how funny it is.

“Man, that’s awesome,” Christian says with blue eyes finally bright and cheerful. “She’s way scarier than those guys in Deliverance.”

Steve takes the opportunity then to sit back on the bed, gratified when Christian follows him, shuffling over the covers to sit against the headboard as Steve arranges himself so they’re facing. He starts up the iconic song from Deliverance again, just wanting to see the smile that stretches over Christian’s face, almost tight in the cheeks like he’s not used to it.

He’s trying to speed it up when they hear the outer door burst open and Steve can tell that it’s the sound of his own mom coming in with grocery bags. There’s a tick in Christian’s jaw at the interruption and his face becomes a full blown scowl as there’s a knock at the bedroom door again.

It’s Jennifer again, looking half sheepish and half pissed and Steve feels a little lost, wondering if he’s missed out since he doesn’t have any siblings.

“Why don’t you come out and have lunch,” she suggests and maybe Steve does know that she’s concerned for Christian but it comes out annoyed. “It’s just a sandwich and momma is back. Think she’s got some news.”

She takes a breath like she wants to keep going, has been holding in giving Christian a piece of her mind, but Christian stands abruptly leaving Steve hurrying after. Mrs. Kane hasn’t been gone long enough to have even filled out a job application.

And when they get to the kitchen, Christian sees his momma as upset as he’s ever seen her. It makes him think back to his father’s death and his breath catches.

“What is it? Tell me now.” His voice is a whisper but no less forceful than a shout.

“The lawyers called,” she says, and he knows right then that she’s pissed if she’s not calling them by their names. “They’re going to take a deal. They don’t think that they can get anything better.”

They’re all frozen. Steve looks over at Christian but can’t tell if the other teen looks relieved not having to testify or not. But that’s not everything.

“It will include some prison time…” and suddenly Christian is letting out a loud breath. Even he doesn’t know what he’s feeling right at that moment. “But it won’t be long,” she continues.

“Not enough,” Jenny spits out.

Christian feels like he’s in a swirling vortex intent on sucking him down in the abyss. Jeff is going to prison. He can’t wrap his head around that and can’t imagine how this town will ever be the same.

“Chris,” his momma murmurs, moving over to him and putting her arms around her. He just lets her hold him, but he doesn’t melt into her embrace. Instead, it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, like something is squeezing his chest and he’s taking in little sips of air no matter how quickly he tries to breathe.

“Bbbbut,” he is interrupted by his own sob. “But everyone hates me!” he cries, not sobbing, just panicking and unable to breathe.

Steve watches in horror, wanting to take the other boy in his arms, but knowing how comforting a hug from your mom can be. He hates that Chris is already thinking about how everyone else will react, but he hates more that Christian’s fears are real.

He’s surprised when Mrs. Kane looks at his mom over Christian’s head, like she’s looking for reassurance. Then she rubs a hand down over the broad back and looks over at Jenny, including her. “I wanted to talk about that…I just…I don’t think we can stay,” she blurts out, tears filling her own eyes now, finally showing the emotion that they knew she was feeling. “I don’t see how we can stay here.”

Jenny presses into the hug then, looking relieved even though they all know that there are lots of problems still to be talked about. Steve is jolted out of his thoughts as his mom puts her arm around him, pulling him into her side.

“Maybe you were right,” she whispers into his hair. “We’ve talked about short selling the house to get out of debt with it. And maybe Christian does need a good start,” she acknowledges that he was right all along. “But he may not want to return to LA after everything, ok? We have to see how he feels.”

Steve nods, resigned. After everything that’s happened. After he’s seen how hard this is really going to be, he just wants what is best for Christian. He’ll wait forever for the other teen to get better, support him wherever Christian goes. Christian deserves someone to do that for him.


End file.
